Change is Constant: The 29th Hunger Games
by FalknerBlue
Summary: After the boring 28th Games, the President executed the Head Gamemaker and a sadist named Cassius was the next Head Gamemaker. He was excited but afraid, and was confident that his Games would be the best Games ever. Filled with lots of action, fresh and realistic characters, this fanfiction will be a good read. (RATED T FOR VIOLENCE/DEATH)
1. Chapter 1: District 1 and 2 Reaping

**Author's Note: Hi guys! This is my new fanfiction aaaand the characters are based on my classmates. **

**TO MY CLASSMATES: The descriptions are sometimes exaggerated from real life but it's to avoid Mary Sues and Gary Stus, aka perfect characters.**

**So enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

The new Head Gamemaker named Cassius smiled at his fellow Gamemakers. He replaced Romulus Coriolanus, who was executed by the President for the lousy 28th Games. Even though Cassius was afraid, he was excited. He had lots of ideas. He would assure President Titinius it would be exciting.

"Three words: Ten, eight, six." Cassius said to Gamemakers. "This will be the best Games ever."

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1: DISTRICT 1 and 2 REAPING<strong>

I, Alliah Sapphire, was not someone who would likely volunteer, especially with what happened to my sister, Alyssa.

My older sister, Alyssa, was chosen by what District 1, 2, and 4 called the 'Institute' to volunteer for the Games. It was that, or death. The runner-up would kill you so they would be the one to replace you. Alyssa was brave, beautiful and confident, so she chose to volunteer, not knowing she signed up for a death contract. Before going to the Games, she told me two things that I shall never forget: protect our cousin Amethyst at all costs, and never to volunteer. Amethyst was a poor kid whose parents were killed.

When I watched the Games, I only remembered one scene. That scene was when she was murdered by a girl from District Six. The D6 girl crept up to the Careers as they slept—the guards (D1 male and D2 female) ran away; the others didn't know—and slit their (D2 and D4 male; D4 female was killed in the bloodbath) throats one by one, except for my sister. My sister gasped awake and tried firing an arrow at her, but someone took her arrows, which left her undefended. The attacker was quick and threw her knife directly at my sister's heart.

I hated District Six ever since.

This year, the Capitol found out about the District 1 Institute and for the first time, no one was chosen to volunteer for this year's Games. Every student was afraid to volunteer this time—they were afraid the Capitol might punish them. Also this year, Amethyst turned thirteen and I turned fifteen.

It was reaping day today and before going, I stood before the mirror. I had pulled up my hair into a high ponytail and applied eyeliner on, well, my eyes. They were what the elderly called 'Asian' eyes. I put light pink lipstick. I applied thick foundation to hide my pimples. I sighed. My sister was more beautiful than me. My tight, red dress reached up to my knees. I tried to pull them down more to shield my chubby legs. I had to wear very small shoes even though I had medium-sized feet. Every step I took, I winced.

My mother, father and baby brother named Eion walked me and Amethyst to the station where they would take some blood. As I entered the fifteen year-old sector, many thoughts crossed my mind. What if I got picked? I hoped not. But if I was, I would probably get a seven or eight as a training score, because I've trained using small knives last year. Our escort, Magnus, stood in front of the mic, ready to speak. His royal blue hair was combed up. He wore a polo, a black vest on top of it, and gray pants. He seemed pretty underdressed this year.

"Good morning, District One," Magnus started, his voice cracking like a boy through puberty. "Welcome to the annual Reaping for the Twenty-Ninth Hunger Games . . ."

A thought struck me and my eyes widened in horror. _What if Amethyst got picked? _What would I do? I wouldn't volunteer. Alyssa told me that. Surely someone _would_ volunteer because we're Careers, right?

My chain of thoughts were broken when Magnus announced he would begin to pick the name for the ladies. _Not Amethyst, not Amethyst, not Amethyst._ I chanted inside.

"Amethyst Greene!"

I didn't quickly register what was going on. I saw Amethyst walk out of her sector, and slowly walked to the stage. I waited for someone, anyone to volunteer.

I clawed my way out of my sector and shouted the words that seemed to come from another person: "I volunteer as tribute!"

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><p>Joshua Combe's Reaping day was not going well.<p>

My fourteen year-old self was eager for the Hunger Games. That was unlikely. I wanted to volunteer, to try the Games. I was confident I would win. But I wasn't really so sure. At sleepless nights, I found my mind arguing if I would volunteer or not.

As I ate breakfast, my mother described our 'changes' from last year to now. It was an annual 'event' in our family. I sat next to my thirteen year-old brother. He fiddled his spoon and played with his cereal.

"Joshua, my eldest! You've improved so much. Your height—you've grown almost one foot! Your eyes are darker in color. Your hair is curlier and longer. Don't cut it, okay? It's good on you. You've grown fatter—in a good way! And please, get rid of tucking in your clothes." His mother said and began with my brother's changes.

I stood up and went to my room to change. After changing into a red polo shirt under a blue unzipped jacket, and khaki pants, I tucked in my polo shirt and wore a belt. No one will ever make me change this style. It's my fashion trademark. I didn't wait for my brother and ran out of the house. The cold wind seemed like it slapped my face. I walked away from my house, eager to get inside the square and volunteer. Yes, I was very sure I needed to volunteer.

After what seemed like infinity, the escort of our district appeared on the stage and I didn't even listen on his Capitol-originated speech and didn't bother to watch the Capitol-originated video. Finally, it was time for the Reaping. My heart beat went fast and my eyes flared with eagerness and excitement. A small girl was chosen for the ladies but an ugly girl volunteered. Was she out of her mind? Her legs looked thin (**A/N: Her legs are moderate-sized!)**. She needed chubby legs. With looks like that, sponsors would never choose her. _But what makes you any different?!_ An annoying voice said in my mind.

Magnus asked her name. "My name is Alliah Sapphire." The girl replied monotonously. If she was afraid, she was properly concealing it.

"Ah, so perhaps you're related to Alyssa Sapphire from four years ago?" Magnus wondered. If she was a relative of a former tribute, it would be dreadful. There had been many cases like that before and they always died.

I saw the girl clench her fists. "Yes, she is my sister."

"Are you related to Ms. Amethyst here?" Magnus glance-pointed to Amethyst and the girl nodded and said she was her cousin. "Let's now clap our hands for our _beautiful_ volunteer up here!"

The others in the crowd clapped for her blandly, while I pitied her. She will have such a short life. The annoying voice bothers me again. _But what makes you different?_ I ignored it. Magnus reached for a slip of paper in the men's bowl. It was agonizing, waiting for him to open that piece of paper.

Then I suddenly didn't want to volunteer. That was my final decision.

But my joining the Games wasn't inevitable, because: "Joshua Combe!" I stood in horror, frozen. I was glanced at and thrown looks at. The crowd parted and I had no choice except to step away from my sector and walk to the stage.

When I walked up the stage, I saw my little brother faintly sobbing. I saw my mother, her head on her hands. I saw my father, his hand on my mother's shoulder. It still didn't sink in that I was about to die next week.

Together with the girl who volunteered and with Magnus, we entered the Justice Building.

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><p>Living in District Two was always a challenge. Especially being Amelia "Ace" Domitia, a daughter of a Victor. My mother was the Victor of the Ninth Hunger Games. She was seventeen, then. When she turned nineteen, she married stonemason Victor. It's weird right? Your mother was a Victor while your dad was Victor.<p>

My mother and father secretly built a small training center under our home in the Victor's Village. I didn't know how they even built it, but when I was born, it was there. My parents forced me to train because they knew I was going to be picked. According to them, I was a Victor's daughter, as if that explained everything.

Years of training helped me build a strong shell to shield my tender personality. It just helped me a lot—also to be very fierce. When I was thirteen everyone said I looked very weak because I was a girl. That day, my mother cut my own hair and now it's a bob cut. I myself didn't know why that made things better.

People always said things like how I was so lucky to be so rich and blah blah blah. I _hated_ the life. I was forced to train and train, even when it hurt. Everyone expected so much from me. I wanted to end my sufferings—end it all. There's only one way to finish it—and that was to join the Games. My mother and father would not miss me anyway. I just ruined their lives.

As I walked to the square, I saw many people glance at my attire and glare at it. I got that it wasn't formal, but it was still our choice what to wear. I walked to the seventeen year-old sector near the front and listened to what our escort, Daphne, was saying. It was the same for the seven years I've been eligible for the reaping. This year, our escort wore a grass green afro wig, her cheeks full of yellow. Her eyelashes were colored dark green and she wore yellow lipstick. She sported a sleeveless, dandelion dress that reached up to her knees. Her nails were colored yellow, too, and she wore green high heels.

It was time to pick the ladies' names. "Lana Alexis." Ooh, I've heard _she_ was the one the Institute chose to participate. That means I can volunteer without opponents.

She walked proudly to the stage, with a broad smile. Her flowing blond hair reached to her knees and she was wearing _very_ heavy make-up. I stepped away from my sector and screamed. "I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

Everyone grew silent. Lana's smile faded slowly. She glared at me while I walked up the steps—actually I thought _everyone_ glared at me and my outfit. Daphne looked disgusted at me as a whole.

"Well, well." She said in her Capitolite voice, concealing her disgust and her disappointment for District Two. "What is your name?" She said through gritted teeth.

I looked at the crowd. "My name is Amelia Domitia, or simply Ace." I saw my parents and saw their wide smiles, like they were happy their child will die—or were they proud of me for volunteering? Oh no. I realized if I would join, my mother would be with me. On the train. To the Capitol. She will be the one who will watch over me, guide me, and mentor me. She will see me die. How would she react—will she cry or rage or celebrate?

"Ah, the daughter of the famous Victor Minthe Lewis." Daphne smiled and I saw excitement twinkle in her eyes.

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><p><em>My name is Aeron Sciron and I would like to ask you if you would like to get some . . . decent bread and coffee?<em>

_My name is Aeron and can you be mine?_

_Hi, I'm Aeron, the one at school? I was hoping we could eat soup together some time…_

_Hi, my name's Aeron. I like your hair and you as a whole. Let's eat something together._

_Hi, I'm Aeron; would you like to celebrate another year of living?_

I thought of what I would say to the girl (I didn't know her name) I admired. I called her My Cute Girl instead. I planned to say it later, after the reaping. I dressed nicely this year. In the past five years, I had never dressed properly. I was always just wearing a simple t-shirt and simple pants.

Wait, I can't think straight. My mind was a table with food splattered all over it. All I could think of at that moment were _My Cute Girl, reaping, my muscles, _and _sleep_. Yep, I had muscles but my face was a mess. I had slit eyes that resembled a cat, a nose that looked like a clothes button and I had very large lips. My mother once told me that she freaked out when she saw me. She thought my lips were swelling. I thought she was exaggerating. I even consulted my friends Blake and Mason.

"Really, they aren't that bad…" Blake said, reassuringly. Mason nodded vigorously.

"Thank you guys, for being honest." I said. I remembered after turning away to walk home, I heard them snickering.

My mom knocked on the door. "Honey! It's time to goooo!" Her happy voice called. Even though I didn't see her, I could imagine her smiling. Mom always smiled. I opened the door and there she was, smiling broadly. She grabbed my face with two hands. "So proud of you. So proud of my Tribute. The chosen tribute. I love you, son." She kissed my cheeks.

I turned away and went down the stairs. My gloomy sister glared at me. She was done with her Reaping last year. I thought she would be happy but she was all frowns—as always.

"Time to leave, Airy." She said, rolling her eyes. She always ranted about regretting how_ she_ was the one who suggested my name. It came from the wind master _Aeolus_ (Aer) and the Greek hero _Jason_ (-on), thus my name: Aeron. I liked my name so much; it was unique and I liked the etymology. It was funny because my mother had a family business when she was a teen. The company's specialty soup was called Wind's Soup. '_That soup's very special. It was simply made but the customers liked it.'_ I asked her why it was called Wind's Soup and she laughed. Only that moment I realized it came from her name Wendy. On some regular day, the store burned down. Smoke was thick and customers panicked. My mother was unconscious inside the kitchen. She said her sister knocked her out because a boy her sister liked loved my mom. And that person was my mother's hero, the one who tried to find her because he couldn't find her in the crowd. He carried her out of the store and saved her. That person was my father, coincidentally his name was Hiro. After telling that story, she always said to my sister: "So don't blow the soup when you think it's hot. Stir it first." My sister always blushed. Inside, I was like, _What are you guys even talking about?_

Anyway, my sister and my parents walked with me to the square. I saw the girl I liked but she didn't see me. She was too busy to see me. I never saw her parents, and her house. She didn't look like she lived in the commoners' area like the others. She was my type. I saw her walk to the seventeen-year-old sector and inside I was screaming, _WE'RE THE SAME AGE OMERGNRNFURHUFWJ._ Our escort Daphne began talking and I thought, _'Who even listens to her? It's the same speech every year! Just speed up to the Reaping itself!_'

Finally, Daphne said a District 2 name. "Lana Alexis!" She was my partner for the Hunger Games. What a coincidence that she was Reaped; she was chosen by the Institute. It gave way for weaklings-who-think-they-can-win to volunteer and shame our district. And yep, I was right. I snickered when some girl shouted that she would volunteer.

But I was wrong, too. I went red as she went up the stage. It was My Cute Girl. Oh no, how was I going to kill her if I loved her? You know what made things worse? _She was a Victor's daughter._ A VICTOR'S DAUGHTER. People knew what happened to Victors' children. _They die in the Games_. It made me want to volunteer more.

Daphne put her hand inside the men's bowl and went for the deepest one. She showed it to the crowed and slowly opened it. "Le—"

"I VOLUNTEER!"

Daphne quickly looked at me and smiled. "Come here, young man." I did what she told me to do and she asked what my name was.

"My name is Aeron Sciron." I said. My Cute Girl—Ace was her name—glanced at me and her eyes widened as if to say '_Oh my god his face is a mess!'_ or maybe _'He's so hot I might melt.' _Perhaps, _'How am I going to kill him?_'

"Wonderful name!" Daphne smiled while holding my muscly arm. "Here with me are District Two's tributes: Ace Domitia for the girls and Aeron Sciron for the boys!"

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><p><strong>AN: Liked it? :D Review, fave and follow!**


	2. Chapter 2: District 3 and 4 Reaping

**A/N: So my classmates immediately requested for the next chapter. Here it is! :D Don't forget to put a review at the end of the chapter!**

**I do not own THG.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 2: District 3 and 4 Reaping<strong>

I dreamed of the first time I walked inside the workshop of my father. It was messy, with papers and blueprints strewn everywhere. But almost every IT worker in our district bought our product: the Yottabyte Software HTTP Application (thus my name, Ysha). It didn't make sense to me what our product was. Yottabyte was supposedly the largest unit of storage for computers, so probably our product helped make complicated websites.

Anyway, my dad named Magneto (silly name right?) and my brother named Volt were famous for their work, my brother being my dad's assistant. They were proud of their work. And my mother and father were proud of me, too, despite my lack of information in technology.

I woke up. I covered my head with my hands. I was fifteen and three years away from escaping this Reaping thing. My second brother (Technik), twenty years old, was very lucky to have slipped through the Capitol's radar. He wasn't a registered baby, so he was not in the Reaping when he was twelve to eighteen. He lived a dangerous life, though. When he was caught or his fingerprints were to be scanned, he would be executed and our whole family would be endangered. He had to be hidden when the Peacekeepers made rounds. He didn't go to school. He didn't know any girls except mother and I. Technically (no pun intended), Technik's life was like a life on a high wire.

On second thought, I did not like to live a life like Technik's. I didn't want to rot alone. My mother Ceres (a pun on 'series circuit') knocked on my door. "Come out, now, Ysha. Get dressed. After eating we'll be going straight to the square."

"Wait a minute!" I called out to her. I went to the bath room and after bathing, I chose the best clothing I could find. I saw something blue that caught my eye. I pulled it out and saw the electric blue dress my father gave me earlier this year. It resembled a school uniform. It had buttons on the front up to the middle of my abdomen. It reached up to the middle of my legs. Most girls would love longer dresses, but knee-short dresses are fine with me, thanks to my fair complexion. I was confident with my whole body, except for my teeth. They were clean, but they weren't really aligned. They were a little uneven.

I went down the stairs and saw my parents, Volt, and Technik eating. "Hey, you guys started without me," I said lamely. Everyone ignored me. I sat beside Volt and put some soup in my bowl. We were rich enough to buy a big bowl of soup from the market. After eating soup, Technik hid someplace** (A/N: well, I guess he had the _techniques!_ Pfft.**) and my parents and Volt took me to the square.

The last thing I feared about earlier this year was about the Reaping. I was always afraid of other things, like Technik's life, our business, how I would make my crush talk to me, etc. I was very relaxed. There were so many District Five girls it would be deemed impossible if I would be Reaped. Our escort, Octavia, had long straight hair. Last year, she had it blue. This time it was purple. Really, what was it with Capitolites and hair colors? She wore a pink sunflower dress that seemed too stiff. Her shoes were the same every year—golden gladiator heels. She didn't like moccasins, flats, and sandals. She had very long eyelashes. _'So fake.'_ I thought. What I only liked about our escort is that she had different speeches from what the Capitol gave her.

"Well, well! Welcome to the 29th Annual Reaping for the Hunger Games!" Octavia grinned. "Today we will select a courageous young man and a woman to represent District Three for the Hunger Games!

"Ah, the Hunger Games. The result of the defeat of the thirteen districts' rebellion against the Capitol. District Thirteen was obliterated, and the Hunger Games were made to make sure that a rebellion like _those_ days won't happen again." Octavia continued. "Now, it's time to choose one man and woman for the Hunger Games. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor." Octavia inserted her hand on the female bowl full of names. Some of those were mine. She clasped her fingers on one slip and drew it out. My heart was suddenly beating fast that it might jump out of my rib cage. She slowly opened the slip and read the name.

"Ysha Integrato!"

For a moment, I felt relieved it wasn't me. Then I suddenly realized that _I_ was the one Reaped. _Me. I'll die next week._ I was so shocked I can't move. As I went up the steps of the stage, my first tear fell from my left eye. My eyes became blurry with tears; I can't see my family. Where are they? I would do anything to get myself out of this death game.

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><p>I woke up from a nightmare. No, I can't let that invade my mind again. I shook my head to forget it and closed my eyes. Unfortunately, it came back.<p>

_My two elder brothers made me join their monthly hunting. It was illegal, but that was the only thing that provided us food. My parents never made us take any tesserae; they didn't want us to be picked for the Hunger Games. My elder brothers, who also had weird names that had no relation with our district, led me through mazes of alleys, buildings and factories. I didn't know the way. It was my first time._

_We crept behind thick structures to hide from the Peacekeepers. My heart was beating loud and it might burst out of my rib cage. They led me to the North East Fence, where beyond that led nowhere. The North Fence, not far from the NE Fence, led to District Six. The South and the South West had a way to District Eight. The South East had dangerous coal mines. West Fence had the train station while there was no East Fence._

_These fences were supposed to be electrified, but my brothers Paul and Benedict said it wasn't. They trudged their way through the muddy soil and they stopped in front of a log and pulled out homemade bow-and-arrows._

_"__It's easier to hunt with these," Paul said. He gave me a quiver with two arrows and a bow. We went deeper into the forest._

_"__I hate the damn Capitol." Benedict began saying. I tried to shush him but _he_ was the one who shushed me_. _"Shut up, Francis. That Capitol won't hear us over here."_

_"__We might get killed for your big mouth." I joked as we continued trudging, finding dinner. '_I am fifteen. I shouldn't be doing illegal things.' _I thought._

_"__There! A wild turkey."_ _Paul pointed and I tried shooting an arrow. It hit accurately. The turkey fell down to the ground, dead. Paul laughed in joy as he approached the turkey._

_"__Thank God for the food—and for my brother Francis. Damn you, Capitol. Go kill yourselves!" Benedict shouted._

_Paul followed his brother. He cursed at the Capitol and shouted so many obscenities. I was slowly walking away from them, backwards. Suddenly someone grabbed me from behind. A hand covered my mouth and the other held my hands together. I struggled to break free of the person's grip but I couldn't. I used my shoes to kick him in his 'sensitive area.' It worked. The man removed his grip from mine and instinctively put his hands on his 'sensitive area.' I gestured for my brothers to follow me and get away from the Peacekeeper. I escaped, but the Peacekeeper recovered and grabbed his gun. He shot Paul on the head—he fell down like the turkey, and the Peacekeeper grabbed Benedict, who tried to run, and snapped his neck. He went down, dead._

_I was screaming in agony and tears streamed down my face. I ran and ran, with no sense of direction. Anywhere, just away from this place. He reached the fence and went through it. He ran through streets and alleys, a Peacekeeper tried to shoot him and it hit his shoulder. It was very painful. He gritted his teeth as he ran home._

_The last thing I remembered at that moment was me blacking out and my mother approaching me, wearing a worried look on her face._

That was the reason of how rarely I spoke. I only speak when required. My mother took care of me very much. She was very protective of me, especially after my father killed himself, two months after my brothers' death. Luckily for me, there were no clues or signs left that led to suspicions. After a day, the event was disregarded. But somehow I knew the Capitol would have their revenge.

It was my last year of Reaping. I was hoping that I wouldn't get Reaped this year. Even though I am highly experienced with pain and I had little knowledge in archery, I might die. I can't afford to die. What will happen to my mother? Who will take care of her? Who will keep her company?

I was very worried with everything. People said I was an over-thinker. _What? They don't even know what I think of._

I went to the living room and saw my mother. My mother read people very good, so she always knew if we—correction: I. I always use 'we' when talking about my siblings. I forget that they're dead. I missed them so much.

"Had a nightmare, dear?" she asked me worriedly.

I nodded shortly. I didn't like to speak at that moment because (a) it wasn't required and (b) if I decided to talk now, many months of hidden emotions might spill out.

"Dear, it's okay to let me know your emotions. It won't hurt anyone," my mother told me.

"Yes it would! It would hurt me!" I hissed and broke down, weeping. I thought my mother would scold me and tell me what a weak man I was at eighteen. But I was wrong. My mother approached me carefully like I might burst like an atomic bomb. She hushed me and hugged me. I stood up and wiped my tears. After eating breakfast, my mother accompanied me on the walk to the square, where she held my hand tight and said, "I love you, son. Later, we'll buy some chicken to celebrate your new life." We shared smiles.

After getting my finger pricked for blood, I entered my sector. I looked around and saw the others wearing almost the same attire I wore: a vertically-striped polo not tucked in, and khakis that seemed one size larger than our actual size. They also had on black leather shoes like mine. My light brown complexion stood out in the crowd of pale-skinned people. My skills differed from those of the others, who spent most of the day with their eyes glued to a computer screen, or maybe tinkering with old stuff.

Our escort, I didn't know her name because (a) I didn't watch television, where they introduce the escorts every year and (b) I really didn't care, walked up to the mike and said a boring speech that came from her brain, and not from the Capitol. She had announced a name of a girl with glowing white skin. Ysha Integrato. I remembered her. She was the daughter of the famous businessman Magneto Integrato. Ysha's eyes were blurry with tears. Our escort asked if she was related to Mr. Magneto, and she nodded.

It was time to pick the names for the boys. My heart wasn't beating so fast. I was used to this. Why were we even required to do this? Why can't they just pick someone random and grab them from their house and deliver them straight to the arena? No one ever wins the Games. They just survive them. Why can't they just kill twenty-four children instead of making them maneuver unfamiliar weapons to kill each other?

_Both of them's bad enough. The Capitol is cruel enough._ I've always dreamt of getting out of Panem and living in one of those continents. Wasn't that Antarctica, where most of the South Americans migrated when their continent almost sank? Or maybe Asia, where only half remained of it, after the major earthquakes and tsunamis?

"Francis Pixley!"

My chain of thoughts was disturbed by someone calling my name. Then I realized I would be with that white-skinned girl. I would go to the Capitol. I would fight for my life.

I was Reaped. I heard my mother cry out my name; I felt like I was in a trance. I walked out of my sector and rose up the steps to the stage, like a programmed robot. The following events were a blur: us entering the Justice Building, my mother hugging me and crying, our escort leading us to the train, conversations, and meeting the Previous Victors (two of them).

Those events were like fragments of memory. I ate the food the male Avox gave me on the train.

Suddenly, a thought hit me. The Avox. He looked familiar. He looked like . . . like . . . _he looked like Paul_.

A memory resurfaced. It was the day that my brothers were murdered.

_The Peacekeeper shot my brother Paul—it hit the shoulder. Then the Peacekeeper grabbed Benedict. He didn't snap his neck, he just knocked him out._

My brothers. They weren't dead. They were now Avoxes.

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><p>Two days from now was the Reaping. I was inside the underground institute of District Four. Today was the final battle. Another girl and I would fight for the ultimate spot, the person who would volunteer for the Games. I wouldn't like that, but District Four would give a hundred thousand Panem Notes. That was enough for my family's lifetime.<p>

I had two younger brothers, and a baby sister. My father was not alive anymore to feed them. He was caught up in a storm while fishing. He was never seen again. My mother changed my name after my father died. My name was originally Monique, but mother changed it to Aidien. She said it came from the word "aed" meaning "fire."

"But it is the opposite of our district," I used to say. "Our district's all about water, seas, oceans."

"You're the fire that lives in my heart. You will spread something important, my dear Aidien. You're also the fire that continues raging even on seas." My mother said. I used to think it made no sense, but now I think she meant something big about me.

Anyway, I was in the Institute and was about to battle with the rich, arrogant girl named Serena. The girl used a machete as a weapon, while I used a dagger. A dagger wielder needed to be swift and alert. I consider myself those things.

So I stepped on to the elevated fighting mat. The rules were simple. Don't step out of the mat. If you do so two times, you lose. Serena was there, glaring at me. She was holding her machete tightly. My dagger was concealed, so she didn't know I had a weapon. A referee said "Go!" and we began circling each other.

"You disgusting fish out of the water!" Serena spat.

"Oh! I'm so hurt by your insult!" I mocked then laughed. "That was very _insulting._" I rolled my eyes and advanced. She swung her machete wildly. I dove left and landed on my hands. I used my leg to make her fall down. Her machete made a long cut on her left lower arm. I rose up and kicked her out of the mat with no effort.

"ONE POINT TO AIDIEN CRESSIDA!"

I smiled. If she would maintain that kind of attitude, I would easily gain that hundred thousand. The referee signaled and she advanced straight. I ran left and grabbed my dagger. I sneaked up to her and tried to stab her, but she turned and kicked me with much force that it knocked me out of the ring. I felt dizzy, but I regained balance and stood up. The referee declares a tie between us. She sneered at me. At the referee's signal, we both advanced at each other. I threw my dagger while running and it hit her shoulder. Her eyes widened in pain and she fell down. I walked casually to her and will kick her out. But she suddenly grabbed the machete and swung at me. It cut my leg and I put my hands over it. It was wet with flowing blood. We were lying down on the mat—not moving, not going anywhere.

I tried to remember what will happen if no one won the final battle. There was something stated in the rules, but I can't remember . . . I can't.

The next day, my mother woke me up holding an envelope. She was smiling. It made me smile, too. "What's happening, mother? What are you holding?"

She said four words through her smile. "One hundred thousand Notes." My eyes widened with joy for my family. I earned them the money! I won the fight! "Thank you so much, Aidien. Thank you." But her words had a twinge of sadness in it.

"What's wrong, mother? Why the sudden sadness?" I asked her, and before she even spoke I realized it. She put her head on my shoulder and I felt her wet tears through my clothes. "I'm really sorry, mother, but that's the only thing I could do for you guys. I'm really sorry…But think of it as the better way. The money would last for a lifetime."

I heard her whisper. "You're just sixteen." Then, she turned to me. "I believe in you, Aidien. You can do this."

"I'll do my best, mother. I'll win for you guys."

The Reaping came fast and I wanted to spend more time with my family. I would miss them so much. The night before the Reaping, I wept and wept and wept. I wept until I ran out of tears.

On the morning of the Reaping, I woke up early and walked to the beaches. I was facing the East so I saw the sunrise. It was beautiful. I wondered if I would ever see another beautiful scene like this. I sat down on the wet sand and I just sat there, not caring if any Peacekeeper saw me.

I loved District Four. I loved everything about it.

Hours before the Reaping and minutes after the beach moment, I colored my straight hair flaming red, so it matched my name. I wanted to be known for this. I wanted to be the Flame Girl from District Four. The fire raging through the seas.

* * *

><p>If you've ever been in District Four, you've probably heard of me. My name is Cjay. It's a pun on sea and the bird jay. A jay is described as noisy; it seemed like my parents knew what I was going to be like. Yes, I was noisy and sociable. I liked people, but at the same time, I hated them.<p>

I considered myself higher than others, because really, people in my district are _so dumb._ I was very different from those stupid commoners. I always found ways to victory, even though at times it involves doing dirty work. But victory is victory, and I would do anything to get what I wanted. Everything should always be under _my_ control.

Speaking of control, I could say I'm very persuasive. I could convince someone that I didn't do this certain thing and could even tell them that a different person did it. I could slip under anyone's noses and I would never be held responsible for any of my mistakes.

So it was just yesterday the boys' final battle had happened. I won, obviously, thanks to me being thin and light, and for being small for my age. I was fourteen. Aside from those characteristics, I had brown skin (a little dark) which was the result of hours of swimming. I also had big eyes. These eyes helped me a lot in fights.

I ate breakfast at Reaping Day with my mother and my sister who was two years older than me. My father once said he would go to the factories to work (his job was a canner) but he never came back. I felt like my mother became broken ever since that day.

After dressing up, my mother said she would follow, so my sister and I went to the square without her.

As I entered my sector, I stayed near the aisle so I could at least see something. The other fourteen year olds towered over me. After almost thirty minutes, I finally saw our escort. Our escort was impatient, so after her opening speech, she always picked the names immediately.

"Good morning District Four! Greetings from the Capitol . . ." When she said the word _Capitol_, I shuddered with excitement. I was looking forward to going to the Capitol. I would've liked to live in District One or Two, but I wanted to go to the Capitol. It would be a dream.

"For the girls, Pearl Irwin," our escort boringly announced. Instead of Pearl who I knew at school, a sixteen year-old girl with red flaming hair stepped away from her sector and volunteered. She was Aidien Cressida, the one from the Institute. "Well. We have a volunteer. What's your name dear?"

"My name is Aidien Cressida." The girl said.

"I love your hair. Very fancy." Our escort said genuinely. "And for the boys," she returned to her boring demeanor, "Lester Hook."

"I volunteer." I shouted casually while our escort rolled her eyes. She gestured for me to come and I did. She asked me my name. "Cjay. Cjay Eaton."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whose story did you like best from Chapter 1 and 2? **

**These are our tributes so far:**

**District 1:**

**Alliah Sapphire  
><strong>**J****oshua Combe**

**District 2:**

**Amelia "Ace" Domitia  
>Aeron Sciron<strong>

**District 3:**

**Ysha Integrato  
>Francis Pixley<strong>

**District 4:**

**Aidien Cressida  
>Cjay Eaton<strong>

**Please review, follow and fave! :)**


	3. Chapter 3: District 5 and 6 Reaping

**A/N: Hi guys! SO in mobile I noticed that some of the lines don't work. If you ever encounter this, please use this system of separation for Chapters 3 and up.**

**()() = new character POV**

**... = same character POV, but different time.**

**Please put a review at the end of the chapter. Thanks!**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 3: DISTRICT 5 AND 6 REAPINGS <strong>

My name is Hanna. I live in District 5. Being a part of the wealthiest family of the third wealthiest district, I didn't need to take tesserae for my family and my brother, Leandro. Leandro. Leandro was this cute, chubby boy who had dark brown hair. He wore glasses with black, thick frames. Leandro and I had a few similarities, except I wasn't what you would like to call cute. I was a little fatter than him. Leandro had whiter skin than me. Leandro was thirteen; I was fifteen.

A day before the Reaping, Leandro kept crying. He was a nervous wreck. It was his second time for the Reaping, but it was his first time feeling it. Last year, he didn't fully grasp on the thought he was already eligible. This year, it truly sank in.

"Hush, hush, Leandro. You're just thirteen, chances are you won't get Reaped." I lied. Last year, a twelve year old was Reaped for District 5. She didn't even last ten minutes. If only Leandro and I were the same gender, I would volunteer if he got chosen. After he cried, I bought him outside. We walked to the Ruins, where tall buildings and casinos dotted the streets. A sign had faded paint and broken letters. A broken tower was placed behind a metal parachute. This place was once known as a city called _Las Vegas_. The buildings' lights would sometimes be turned on if there were celebrations, but it was forbidden to enter any. Somehow, the Ruins made Leandro happy. Once, he told me he wanted to get a job connected with lights.

I prepared for the Reaping at around nine o'clock. We were supposed to be at the square thirty minutes before noon. We just have to stand around for an hour or two, then go home to eat celebratory lunch. Couldn't we just get straight to lunch?

Anyway, I wore a blue female polo shirt (barely fit me) and denim jeans. I looked at a full-length mirror. Yes, I was proud that I was fat, but I just wanted people to stop calling me a pig, a fat person, etc. Why couldn't I be one of those skinny white girls who were always called pretty? I wanted to be pretty for who I was. I wanted someone to love me for who I am, not someone who will love me but will make me change.

I looked at my room. It was full of family pictures. How sweet, you might think. But wait, there's more. The family pictures I kept were cut in half, or probably I myself ripped them. I cut myself out of the picture and pasted the "perfect family" on my walls—except they had designs. Some faces were crossed out, others had horns. Few of them I colored dark red.

Why? That's so cruel, I know. But I wouldn't have done that if my family wasn't so mean to me. My parents barely talked to me. They only talked to me when they needed something. They always favored Leandro over me. Oh, Leandro. I was joking when I said we had a few similarities. We didn't have any similarities at all. He was _adopted._ My mother and father warned me that if I told the boy he was adopted, they would kick me out. They were the perfect family. Leandro loved them so much, and my parents loved him too. I was like, a maid. I was a family outcast.

As I walked out of my room, I saw Leandro. I jumped, shocked. He was wearing a green polo, khaki pants and leather shoes. "What are you doing here?! Didn't I tell you a million times to stay out of my room?"

"I just wanted to see if you're ready to go." Leandro whispered.

"For Capitol's sake, it's nine-thirty. I go to the living room when I'm done."

"I'm sorry."

I pushed him aside and went to the living room. I said that I would volunteer for him, right? I wanted to so I could die. They would be _very_ happy without me. I walked out of the house and straight to the bakery. I bought some bread and sat at one of the benches, already beginning to eat the bread. I didn't want to see my family again. They were horrible. They raised me, yes, but when we were walking through the Ruins when I was five, we saw this skinny three year old. They took him home and named him Leandro. He was the worst thing that came into my life.

It was time to get into the square. I finished my bread and lined up to get my finger pricked. After, I went inside my sector and waited. I still haven't spotted Leandro, nor my parents. I suddenly began to worry about them. I started regretting all the family pictures on my wall. I was so mean to them I became blind. I craved for so much attention that I got mad at Leandro. I didn't mean everything. I was so fed up with myself. They didn't want Leandro to go rogue when he learned he was adopted, so they cared for him so much. I started welling up, regretting every bad thing I did. I didn't deserve my parents. I didn't deserve Leandro. Why was I so heartless? Our escort began saying lots of things, then he inserted his hand into the girls' bowl. He showed us his chosen slip, and began opening it.

"Hanna Tesla!"

_I'm sorry, Leandro. I'm sorry Mom. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry for everything. I LOVE YOU GUYS._

* * *

><p>()()<p>

I am Robert. Thirteen years of age. I am eligible for the Reaping.

Robert isn't actually my name. I just liked the name Robert. It sounded like Robot.

The Reaping was tomorrow. I wanted to cry. I didn't want to get Reaped. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to kill someone.

I will miss my sister who cared about me. My parents who loved me so much. _Stop thinking about you being Reaped._ My mind said. Why should I stop? Nothing's impossible.

My sister saw me weeping and she approached me. We walked together to the Ruins. I always liked the Ruins. They were a piece of the past, where there were no Hunger Games, no Capitol, no Panem. Freedom throughout the country. What I liked most were the lights. At celebrations, every year after the Reaping, the lights would be turned on. They were amazing. It was like you were living in a different world. A different world where there was peace. I always felt a surge of adrenaline when I heard the lights would be on. I would rush out of the house and run straight to the ruins to stare at the different colors that light up each and every building.

My sister and I sat down at one of the benches and we stayed there, listening to the sounds nature was making, to the sounds technology was making.

I broke the silence. "Sis, are you sometimes . . . annoyed at me?" I always felt she was distant. But I always felt she cared for me, under her layers of coldness.

"Oh, brother. Why would I be annoyed at you?" she replied monotonously.

"Nothing, it's just a random thought." It wasn't a random thought at all. One time, when she was out buying us food at the market, my mother told me to get my sister's dirty clothes. When I entered her room, tons of family pictures were cut, and one picture was my face. My eyes were crossed out and she drew a mustache. She wrote the words "MOST ANNOYING BROTHER" under it. My friend at class also had an incident like this. He told me about it last week. He entered her sister's room for once, and saw what I saw: cut family pictures, crossed out heads, horns, and more. What was happening in this district? It didn't seem like a tradition, though.

I quickly went out of her room after I got her dirty clothes to be laundered. I almost broke down at that night.

"BROTHER!" I heard my sister say. My mind stopped its flashbacks, and I saw my sister standing in front of me. "Time to go. It's almost curfew." Together, we went back to the house.

…

Today was the day. _Reaping day_. I shuddered. This was the day I most dreaded. I hated this day. I went up to my sister's room and suddenly, the door swung open. She was shocked, but her expression turned into anger. After a few minutes, she finally left. I made sure she was really gone before entering her room.

It's this part I'm going to reveal to you my real name. My real name is Leandro Tesla, and I just found out I'm adopted. My eyes widened when I saw a picture of me with my parents. My parents' faces were covered by red shades, and an arrow was pointed at my head. Above the arrow was the word "_adopted_." I was taken aback by the news. It shocked me to the core. _I'm adopted?_ _I'm adopted?_

I saw a table beside her bed and ran to it. On top of the table was a blue notebook. I opened it to the latest entry. It was written yesterday, according to the date above the paragraph.

"_I'm gonna tell you about my annoying, adopted brother. When I was five, my parents who loved me so much and I walked through the Ruins, my favorite part of the district. I was so amazed how structures like these survived extreme weather conditions and environmental phenomena. I was looking at a building called _Lotus Hotel and Casino_, with its unlit lights overhead, decorating the entrance. Beneath the depressing destruction was a beautiful past. It was like looking through the dirty peephole, you would see a magical world. I walked more and saw a kid about three years old. He was very skinny, and had messy brown hair. It was long and was cut unevenly, like a blind man was given scissors. He was rummaging through the garbage cans, probably hoping to find some food. He was wearing nothing but a yellow sleeveless undershirt with a big hole on the back and house shorts. I looked back at my mother and father, afraid. They approached me and I pointed what I saw. They walked to the kid, slowly, and the kid swiftly turned at them and panicked. He began weeping. My mother and father took him home and he became Leandro, my brother. At first, I loved him very much, but as time passed by, my jealousy for him grew, my hate towards him like a boy through puberty. I was jealous because my mother and father always put their attention on him and it was like they completely forgot me, their real child. I wrote this today because I will volunteer at the Reaping—to completely separate myself from them, so they would live on being the image of a perfect family. This will be my last entry. If Leandro or my parents ever saw this, I'm really sorry about my selfishness, but I have to do this. I don't want to ruin the perfect family._"

My sister's words passed through my heart like a spear. I began crying helplessly, for I had no idea what I would do. I grabbed the notebook and ran to the living room, where my mother and father were, getting ready. "Why didn't you tell me I was adopted?!" I shouted, tears flowing freely. I shoved the notebook at them. My father—or should I say _the man who pretended to be my father_—caught it and together with that woman beside her, read it. The pair's eyes widened with shock.

"WedidntmeanforHannatodothis," the woman mumbled, tears visible. "We loved you so much, dear. Wasn't that enough?"

"Why didn't you tell me? I would've accepted it. Now, Hanna is going to die." I screamed. I stomped out of the house. Why did I always ruin things? 'A perfect family.' That was what Hanna called us. If I didn't learn about the adoption thing, or if I didn't enter Hanna's room . . . or if Hanna didn't write the entry, or if I wasn't actually adopted by the Teslas, my life and Hanna's, probably even the Teslas', would totally be different.

The Reaping began and I didn't really understand what the Capitolite man was saying. My mind had too many thoughts. The only sword that pierced through my mind was two words.

"HANNA TESLA!"

The words rang in my whole body. My sister was going to the Games. She didn't even need to volunteer.

My heart was beating loud as the escort inserted his hand through the bowl hole. _It's impossible right? Brother-and-sister in one Games?_

"LEANDRO TESLA!"

_There's always a first time._

* * *

><p><em>()()<em>

It happened three days before the Reaping. Josh Cooper invited me to eat some soup at the market. Josh Cooper was my boyfriend. He was very sweet and sacrificed almost everything for me. I was excited about our 'date.' Would I be engaged at the age of fourteen, with a nineteen year old guy? I stopped myself from giggling when we came to the smelly market. I almost vomited. Ugh. Such a dirty place, very yucky! Poor kids ran around and I didn't want to come in contact with them. I would wash my hands for _a day!_ When we reached the nicer portion of the market, I breathed out. I didn't realize I held my breath so long. We reached Susie's Soup Place, which had the view of the numerous car factories of District Six. Josh went away to order, while I sat.

Josh came and had two soup bowls in his hands. He put them on the table and gave me a spoon. I sipped some. "Heaven!" I exclaimed. Even though I ate Susie's Soup almost every week, I still liked it, compared to the cheap food our family has. Why can't the Capitol just share all its wealth with the districts? I hailed from a rich family, but over time, my parents lost money and almost became bankrupt. I used to get what I always wanted, but now, I need to throw tantrums first.

Josh was jittery; he can't stay still. His hands were shaking. I reached out and held them. "What's the matter?" I asked, worried about my sweet and handsome boyfriend.

"N-n-nothing, Kyle," he mumbled. "It's just . . . I can't do it anymore."

It's either I didn't understand what he said, or I didn't want to understand it. "What?" I asked, dazed.

"I break up with you," he said, suddenly interested at his soup.

"WHAT?!" My eyes widened with surprise. "You can't just break up with me! You . . . I . . . I thought you love me! All those nights? All those love? That was just nothing?!" I slammed the table, making the bowls shake.

"No, it's just—"

"_'I haven't found the girl yet, blah, blah, blah!' 'You're not the right girl for me.' 'You're not interesting anymore!' 'Something changed between us!'_" I mocked him. "I thought you loved me." I shook my head.

"Please, give me time to explain—"

"No need. I just. I can't. I can't handle this anymore." I stood up, grabbed my soup bowl and dumped it at him. I ran away, hot tears wetting my face. As I reached the smelly sector, I ran straight to the station where they sell illegal morphlings. There were many people, shouting. Thanking my lack of height, I crept under the towering mass of people. I popped up in front, and gave the lady 100 Notes. These Notes were the money I tried to earn for emergencies. The lady gave me a small jar full of liquid and a vaccination needle. I scurried out of the crowd and walked home. I injected myself with morphling. Suddenly, I felt like I was floating mid-air. I began to smile, loving the feeling. Suddenly, I fell down and blacked out.

…

I woke up the next day, feeling confused. Suddenly, I remembered everything from yesterday—the break-up, the morphling, blacking out. I saw my parents, looking at me, worried.

"Kyle, we saw you yesterday at the—" my father began, but I cut him.

"YOU DON'T NEED TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!" I screamed. "I KNOW WHAT I HAVE DONE. I DON'T REGRET A SINGLE MOMENT OF IT!"

My mother replied, her words barely heard. "Kyle, we just want you to—"

"GOSH, PLEASE SHUT UP. I'VE HAD IT WITH YOU TWO—"

"We gave you everything!" my father bellowed back. "We gave you everything you wanted! Isn't that enough? You want more? Find someone who can give you more."

"I WASN'T THE ONE ROGUE! I WAS THE ONE THAT WAS RAISED WRONG!" I spat. Anger bubbled inside my bloodstream.

"We love you, Kyle. That's why we did everything for you!" my mother replied, crying helplessly. "Don't you love us back?"

"I—"

I fell down and blacked out.

…

It was Reaping day and I couldn't afford to fall down and black out again. I would be the laughingstock of Panem. I didn't want a ruined reputation. I walked to the square, wearing a red, sleeveless dress that reached up to my legs. I wore high heels to look taller. I entered the fourteen year-old sector. My parents haven't talked to me yet since the argument. I hoped they wouldn't. I might cry.

Our escort, a joyful, cheery and energetic man named Dion, grinned wildly at all of us. "District Six, the district which provides our vehicles…" He droned on and on and my thoughts drifted away from him and grasped at Josh. What was Josh doing? He was probably kissing a girl that was _more appropriate_ for his age.

The picking of names began. I wasn't really expecting much, I thought it was just another Reaping. There were so many girls in our District, it couldn't be _me._

"Kyle Chrysler for our girls!"

It could've be another Kyle, right? But no, it had to be Kyle Chrysler and not Kyle Cooper, Josh's cousin. I was practically frozen in place. The others looked at me weirdly, as if telling me to _gosh, go to the stage already! I'm so hungry._ I walked on tiptoes, and slowly like my walk's pace, it began to sink in that I would be in the Hunger Games. I would die.

_What would happen to me?_

* * *

><p><em>()()<em>

My name is Fiske Clifford and I am an orphan.

I spent fourteen years in the orphanage. I grew up here, and I treated it my home. The Superior (the one who runs the orphanage) always told me my story. It was another regular rainy night for the orphanage. But it was not for the others. Two people knocked on the building's door, and the Superior opened it. He said he saw a man with a black cloth wrapped around his mouth and nose. The man's eyes were stormy grey; his hair was blond. He was wearing a blue shirt inside a blue sweater. He wore jogging pants and rubber shoes. The woman beside him wore a long black dress and black flats. She had a shawl wrapped all around her face. The Superior said that the shawl didn't conceal the eyes, but the woman wore dark sunglasses. They were holding a small baby with blond hair and blue eyes, cloth wrapped all around the boy. Superior was shocked; he didn't expect people to give a baby for care at nights.

"Take him and promise us you'll take care of him. He will grow properly and with friends. Do not try to return him to us. Do not try to find us. His name is Fiske. Fiske Clifford." The woman said, handing Superior the baby. Superior received the baby, but was still shocked. The man and woman closed the door and walked away. From that moment on, Superior treated me like his own kid. Well, Superior treated everyone like we're his kids.

But I was not a kid anymore. I'm seventeen and I have high chances to get Reaped. Two days before the Reaping, my friends Ford and Artemis woke me up. They were twins and they were sixteen. Ford was a boy with messy black hair and green eyes. He was a prankster, his lips curved in a permanent smirk. He usually wore comfy t-shirts and shorts that reached up to his knees. Artemis was the complete opposite of Ford. She had flowing blonde hair, with mesmerizing grey eyes. She was smart and wise; she was a fun person, having a bubbly personality. I kinda liked her.

"Wake up Fiske!" Artemis grinned. "The food today—they're brought by the Capitol!"

I sat up immediately. "You don't say . . ."

"Yes!" Ford continued. "The Capitol gave District 6 food—just like last year District 5, the year before that, Four—"

"Then the mayor of District 6 distributed the food to the orphanages, the most in our sector, Sector E!" Artemis interrupted excitedly. Sector E was where our orphanage was located. District Six had so many people that the mayor divided it into five sectors, Sector A being the richest—the Justice Building, the elites, the Victors. Sector B came in next: the market began there (it reached three sectors: B to D) and the Chrysler clan lived there. What was so special about the Chryslers? I always asked myself. They operated the factories and were just paying poorer employees small amounts for working in the factories; the mayor gave them bigger salary than the employees. Sector C was the biggest sector. Those who weren't poor and who weren't rich lived there. Car factories were in clusters. Sector D was a small sector, where people who were considered poor-but-not-very-poor dominated the area. And last was our Sector, E. Sector E was the poorest of the poor. We may be even poorer than District 12. People lived in slums and broken down houses. The only strong buildings were the Hospital and the Orphanage.

Anyway, I hurried down the stairs and smelled steak, chicken, roast beef, etc. I ran to the cafeteria where tons of people were lined up for food. I sighed. "How are we going to eat?!"

Artemis put her hand on my shoulder, panting. I had to admit, my cheeks became red a little. "All in good time, Fiske . . . All in good time."

I nodded and slowly, numbers started to dwindle. We grew nearer and nearer and finally! There were three steaks left. Ford, Artemis and I got one each. I chose mashed potato over marble potatoes. I grabbed French fries instead of onion rings. I grabbed—Nevermind, the list was too long. Let's just say I enjoyed the food. End of sentence.

. . .

Superior called me to his office the next day. My heart was beating fast. Did I do something so wrong that they would not prolong my stay here anymore? Kids were supposed to stay until eighteen, where they find a job and a life—unless you did something wrong. If you broke a very major rule, then out you go.

Anyway, I entered Superior's office and his worried face was on. "Fiske…I'm afraid. I'm worried. Reaping is tomorrow, and . . ."

"But I didn't take any tesserae." I answered.

"Fiske! Orphanage kids' slips are twice the normal number!"

"Oh. . ."

"You're the eldest of orphanage boys in the whole District. You might get Reaped!"

"Don't worry, Superior. I trust that the odds would be in my favor!"

. . .

Well, I guessed wrong. The next day, the Reaping came. I wore a bland woven shirt with khakis. Our escort called the girl: a Chrysler. Oh no. Not an arrogant Chrysler.

The boys' representative was next. My heart beat became faster as our escort announced the name slowly. "Fiske Clifford!"

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><p><strong>AN: Please review and thanks for reading!**

**Tributes for this chapter:**

**District 5:**

**Hanna Tesla  
>Leandro Tesla<strong>

**District 6:**

**Kyle Chrysler  
>Fiske Clifford<strong>


	4. Chapter 4: District 7 and 8 Reaping

**A/N: Hi guys! This is CHAPTER 4. I hope you'd like it! Please review at the bottom of the page and _please_ tell who your bets are, it'll help in them surviving!**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 4: DISTRICT 7 AND 8 REAPING<strong>

My name came from a country not very famous; except they changed an _a _into an _e_. I came from District 7, an upper middle class district. It's one of the largest Panem districts, as far as I knew. District 7 was not much of a crowd: the spacious area was for the forests, trees, etc.

I didn't really train with axes because I was traumatized. When I was seven, my father tried to make me chop a small tree using a small axe. All my efforts barely made a cut on the tree. I lost grip of the axe and it made a long cut that stretched from my shoulder to the crook of my arm, or scientifically, (according to the doctor) the _antecubital space_. It didn't heal quickly. The physical wound was shallow, but the mental and superstitious wounds were not. They were complicated.

After the physical wound healed, my mind didn't recover. But something was worse. A District 7 superstition stated that a wound from the shoulder to the crook brought bad luck to friendship and to yourself. It did bring me bad luck—in fact, it was more than bad luck.

At nine, my closest friend Harriet died from an explosive that rocked the southern part of the district. Up to now, it was still unknown where the explosive came from. When I was ten, a major disease broke out on the southwest, and my cousins, who were twins, Uriah and Norman, were two of the casualties. On my thirteenth birthday, my friend Gladiator, who was three years older than me at that time, just learned that his girlfriend cheated on him. He then committed suicide. Fourteen years old, I had a circle of friends: Elize, Redbud, Gene and Aprica. A week after we made a school project at our house, they were massacred. It was very tragic. I broke down for weeks. It was the worst thing that happened to me. At fifteen, the closest person I had as a friend was my seatmate at school, Maggie. She introduced me to her sister, Ella. A month later, her parents went rogue and killed their own children.

I am seventeen and nothing tragic happened to my best friends Ash and Armillaria, a couple. I was afraid for Armillaria, because her name meant a tree disease. Also, nothing tragic happened to my two-year boyfriend Mark Fig. I was happy with him and he was happy with me. Mark wasn't really his name. His name was Spruce. He hated it, but liked the name Mark, so he told me to call him Mark.

So far, everything was going well. I threw out my list of dead friends. It wouldn't help me recover from my traumas. I would move on.

…

It happened a day before the Reaping. My mother woke me up, she was panicking. I became afraid. Did my father die? Was he taken by the Capitol. '_To the square.'_ My mother mouthed. I hurriedly changed and went down, not caring about anything. If this was about Ash or my father, I was going to flip. Ash was _not_ going to be in my list of dead friends. I reached the square and a crowd was forming. I clawed my way to the front and I saw the firing squad, ready to shoot a person which was definitely not my dad. He had dirty blond hair, wearing a plain beige shirt and plain beige pants. He was barefoot.

He was Spruce. Spruce Fig. Mark Fig. Mark. My Mark. My sweet loving boyfriend Mark. I was speechless, until I heard the bang of the guns. The man fell down and the firing squad walked away. I ran to Mark, my tears flying out of my eyes. I knelt down at him and saw his mouth full of blood. I cried and cried.

"Mark! Mark, please! No!" I pleaded in agony.

"Jameica Willow, I love—" he started to say, then his head fell to the side. He was gone. My Mark was gone. My Mark . . . what did he do to get killed by the firing squad?

He was one of the best best best friends I've ever had. I'd known him since kindergarten; I just didn't put my attention on him.

Now I'm sprawled here at the center of the square, holding a lifeless body in my arms. His family arrived, crying, and grabbed him from me. They thanked me—for what? For staying with him until he died? That's not a thing people should thank you for. Maybe they thanked me for everything.

I walked away from everything. I would change my name. I went back home, to my room and began writing the names of my friends that died: from Harriet to Spruce. I separated the first letters from the others, meaning to make a name out of the first letters.

What I formed was not a name, it was an event. All the first letters, they were placed in such an order that would bring the most bad luck anyone could receive.

Harriet, Uriah, Norman, Gladiator, Elize, Redbud, Gene, Aprica, Maggie, Ella, Spruce.

_"__HUNGERGAMES"_

* * *

><p>()()<p>

I was a simple boy living in a simple town leading a simple life. I was your typical District Seven citizen. Well, others could say I had the perfect life. My family's happy; I have a beautiful girlfriend; I have a decent job; I had lots of friends.

It was a regular day-before-the-Reaping for me. When I woke up, my parents and my younger sister were eating breakfast together. I approached, sat and grabbed some bread and butter, which cost a month worth of salary for regular tree-cutters. But for me, it was just for five days.

"Forrest," my mother started, her tone startlingly unusual. "We have to talk to you about something serious."

"What is it, mom?" I asked, worried. She wasn't really like this usually.

"It's very pleasing that your work in the tree-cutting industry brings us so much, but you aren't balancing it very much." My mother said while my father nodded.

"Balancing what?" I replied, surprised.

"Balancing your studies and your occupation," my father blurted out. "We received your grades today and they were very low compared to the last time."

I think that was the first time I got mad at them. I stood up suddenly. "What? I already work for you guys and you two dare say that to me? Are you not proud of me?" I saw my sister go out of the house.

"It's not like that, son—" my mother replied.

"No. I thought you guys were grateful. I thought you appreciated everything I do!" I shouted, pouring out my emotions.

"_STOP IT!_" my mother screamed. "We just wanted to say to you that we're proud of you but you just need to balance things and sort out your priorities."

I ignored her and stormed upstairs to my room. I grabbed a thick, long-sleeved woven shirt that's mainly red, wearing it over my red undershirt. I put on denims and got my bag. I was very glad that there was another set of metal stairs connected to my balcony. Before, I hated it as murderers might use it. But as I grew up, it became a convenient way to sneak out and sneak in; bring others to my room.

I went down and ran to the tree-cutting center. It was where workers signed in for work. It wasn't much; it was like a factory, except full of logs and no machinery. There was a locker room and shower room (separate boys and girls). In the locker room were lockers, of course. In the shower room were showers (of course). I've only seen the boys' and it totally had no barriers between stalls. I shuddered then, never wanting to shower there.

After I signed in and walked to the locker room to put my bag in a locker, I saw my fellow tree-cutter friends Jack, Rowan and Aspen. They were all older than me: nineteen, twenty-one and twenty, respectively. They always hung out a lot, and I sometimes joined them.

You wanted to know why I had higher salary than the others? It was because I was a student worker seventeen or below. I was sixteen and I've cut down more trees than eighteen to nineteen year olds.

To be honest, our district is a little rich. The tree-cutting centers held a lot of money, as the salaries were given per day, according to how much trees you've cut. The axes were programmed to count how much trees you'll bring down, so you won't get extra salary. But even though they're strict about the extra salary, they still give salary _per day_. If you cut one young tree, you get fifty cents (C). Two young trees = one Panem Note (PN); three young trees, one PN and fifty C, so on and so forth.

An old tree however, is worth two Notes each. These trees were not easy for regulars, but it was a piece of cake for me. A very old tree will give you ten Notes each. Only about three people had successfully brought down a very old tree. However, if you were seventeen or below, the money would double, so I was very lucky.

You might say, _So it's like a competition of how many trees you cut?_ I'd probably say it's in between. There's always a limit. You can only cut twenty young trees, ten old trees and five very old trees per day (even though the strongest can only bring down probably one each day). The average trees I cut each day were fifteen youngs, eight olds, and zero very olds. So I earn about . . . I don't know, I wasn't good at mathematics. I always had a big "FAIL" written across my Math papers.

The highest trees I've cut were 20, 10 and zero. Always zero on the very old trees.

Today, I had cut thirteen youngs, six olds and as usual, zero very olds. It was like I had low energy this day. I went to the salary machine and dropped my axe on the deposit basket. It quickly withdrew and it began beeping as the machine processed my earnings. It would automatically double because the handle processes the hand and the hand has these weird indications of your age. I don't know, I suck at biology. A number flashed at the screen. _37_, it said. It displayed the breakdown of my earnings:

13 YT (young trees) = 6.5 PN (Panem Notes) x 2 (AGE: 16) = 13 PN

6 OT (old trees) = 12 PN x 2 = 24 PN

0 VOT (very old trees) = 0 PN x 2 = 0 PN

TOTAL = 37 PN

I grabbed the PN I received and went to the locker room. I grabbed my bag and went out. I dashed to the convenience store and bought canned food and two bottles of water, all for myself. I reached my set of stairs and went up, grabbing the key to my sliding door in my bag. I went inside, hungry for food.

I realized I was hungrier for sleep. It was almost nine at night. I didn't know I spent almost the whole day cutting trees. That was a first. I changed to nightclothes and went to bed.

. . .

When I woke up, I knew I was almost late for the Reaping. The sound of playing children outside (every morning from eight to ten-thirty) wasn't present. I looked at the clock and yes, it was almost eleven-thirty. I rushed out of my bed and put on denims. I grabbed a blue woven shirt and leather pants. I wet my hair and combed it. I smelled myself and figured it wasn't that bad. I didn't sweat much yesterday. I could bathe later after the Reaping.

I quickly descended my stairs, making sure I locked my door connected to the house and my sliding door. I haven't seen Amber and my parents since yesterday. I ran to the square and quickly registered myself. I went to my sector, breathing hard. I scanned the crowd for Amber, but I didn't see her. I tried finding her as our escort began blurting out words. Finally, it was time for the names. I hoped the girl would not be Amber. I hoped. I screamed internally for Amber's name not to be called.

"Jameica Willow!"

A thin girl with short hair walked up the stage, traces of tears visible. She stood like she was very experienced emotional pain. I felt sad for this girl I didn't know.

"For the boys, Forrest Oakley!"

I was shocked. Me? The Hunger Games? Then slowly, I recovered. I could go pretty well. I could win. I could expertly maneuver an axe.

Or maybe this was my fate. To die. Or my punishment because of my arrogance to my parents.

* * *

><p>()()<p>

I'm the mayor's daughter and I liked it.

I didn't enjoy it, I just liked it. I liked it because I ate more than three meals a day. I didn't work like the other children. I didn't get tesserae. We weren't very rich, but we weren't very poor.

District Eight was divided into four sectors: The rich (aka elites), the middle class, the poor, and the very poor. The people who live in higher sectors were often the owners of the factories and the people who live in the very poor were majority of the factory workers. On the poor side were families whose mothers excelled a little in weaving and sewing.

Me? I didn't know _anything_ about our industry. I excelled at my academic subjects, but not at weaving, sewing or designing clothes, and I'm kinda sad about it. When I grow up, I wanted to design clothes for the fat. I'm "a little" fat and the standard D8 clothes barely fit me. Unfortunately, I think I'm the only chubby person in District Eight, so my plans didn't really fit my District.

Five days before the Reaping was an ordinary school day. My class began at eight in the morning. On my way to the school, I saw friends Lacey and Sasha.

"Hi Pauline!" Lacey smiled. Lacey was this girl who's always cheerful as if she had no problems in the world. She had pearl white skin, unlike the usual District Eight dark brown. She had flowing blonde hair, always pigtailed. She liked lollipops. Last year, she almost joined the Hunger Games, except her sister volunteered for her. Even though her sister died, she still remained happy and reminded herself that her sister was in a happier place.

"Hi, Lacey! Hi, Sasha! C'mon let's go, we might be late." I said to them.

"Wait, I need to bring mah young'r sister to her nursery." Sasha deadpanned, her poker face standing out amongst our smiles. Sasha was a serious girl with big dreams. She wanted to be a factory owner and clothes designer when she grew up, but sometimes she had a bad attitude of answering back rudely. She was from Sector 2, and she was a little uncomfortable when we hung out.

For three hours at school, it was the usual schedule. I was shocked when at Panem History, I heard these words from the overhead speaker. "Pauline Velvet, you are called by the mayor."

I grabbed my bag and quickly went out of the room. Why did my father call me for no reason at all? I walked out of the school and trudged to the mayor's house. As I knocked on the ever-locked door, my father quickly opened it and gestured me to come in.

"What's wrong? Why the sudden call?" I asked him.

"You can't tell any of the following things I'm going to tell you, okay?" he blurted out.

"What is it?!" I asked, alarmed.

"Pau, they're going to send you to the Games." My father said slowly, as if the words were thorns he wanted to let out.

I was confused. "You don't know. The Reaping's not yet done. You don't even have the bowls! Or do you just want me to die?!"

"No, Pau!" he shook his head, almost weeping. "It's true. Every year, I receive the papers with all the eligible registered children with their sector, and always three each are highlighted. Three for the boys, three for the girls. One name has a yellow highlight and two have blue highlights. At the end of the list was the legend. A yellow highlight means times three and a blue highlight is times two. It's all fake. They don't include all the names of the people, they just include three names, multiplied according to the highlight."

"I still don't believe it. Who were highlighted last year?"

"Lacey Bonnie Paige of Sector 1 was yellow and Sasha Marie Hemmings of 2, together with Thimble Satin of 4 were blue. And guess what, Lacey Paige was Reaped, except her sister Vina volunteered."

I sat down and put my head in my hands, beginning to weep. "Let me see the list." My father hurried away from me and after a few moments, almost ten pieces of paper were stapled and given to me. First part, the girls. It contained your whole name, your age and your sector. It was divided into ages: the younger, the closer (to the top). Each age was divided into sector, and each sector was arranged alphabetically according to last name.

Age twelve, no one was highlighted. Age thirteen, one was highlighted blue and she was from sector 3: _Thalia Burton_. Age fourteen, no one was highlighted. I skipped to eighteen and surprisingly, no one was highlighted. Age seventeen had none. Age sixteen (longest list) had zero highlights and finally, age fifteen. Two were highlighted. One yellow and a blue.

The blue was Sasha Marie Hemmings, Sector 2 and the yellow one was the most dreaded one.

_"__Francesca Pauline Velvet, 15, Sector 1"_

. . .

I made the most of my life the following days. I spent almost half of my money eating with my best friends Sasha and Lacey in the market. The market was located in Sector 2, so the customers can easily buy from it. It was very far from Sector 4, as the District 8 officials didn't expect anyone from that sector to buy anything from the market. If they earned more money, they would buy or rent a house at a higher Sector.

Anyway, I was particularly happy. I even also made Sasha drop her serious attitude and just be fun.

But a few words from her were enough to send me back to SadWorld. "Guys! Do yah remember that time when it was the Reaping, and the escort almost said mah name! The escort said _Sa—Lacey Paige!_"

"Could you stop repeating that? It's only a happy moment for _you_ not for us all. So could you please stop it?" Lacey surprisingly argued, her voice rising.

"You ain't holding me back, bruh!" Sasha shouted back. "You ain't da boss of me!"

"Alright, I'm not the boss of you but sometimes you need to think of others too!" Lacey screamed.

"How about ya tell tha' to ya-self!" Sasha replied. "You so selfish you ain't giving the poor kids money! You so self-centered ya don't care about da others who live crappy lives!" Sasha shouted and walked away.

Lacey turned back and walked away like a model. Meanwhile, I was left behind sitting at one of the chairs.

. . .

Finally, Reaping day. It was the most dreadful day in the history of men. I wore a loose, long-sleeved, white polka dot shirt and denims not too loose and not too tight. I pulled my hair into a ponytail while looking at my reflection. Ugh, I hoped I had whiter skin like Lacey's. I hoped I had silky brown hair like Sasha's. I hoped I had slender bodies like both of them. I fixed my glasses properly as they fell out of my face. Almost no one at our district could afford glasses.

As I walked out of our house (our house was near the Justice Building, but far from the registration station), I saw my father enter the Justice Building, together with the Victor of the 20th Games, Woof Burton (came from Sector 4, uncle of Thalia Burton). I registered at the station and went in. After a few moments, Lacey entered our age-sector and talked to me. Her eyes were red with tears, her white arms lined with fresh scars. Her hair was also cut shoulder-length, raggedly.

"My mother and my father tried to kill me." She said.

"WHAT?" I asked, shocked.

"They thought I would get Reaped. They chased me with a knife, Pau. _They chased me with a knife._ That was so traumatic. I just . . ."

"How did you sneak out here?"

"I did the worst thing ever. I think I will never forgive myself. _Pau. I killed them. I killed them Pau. _I ran out of things! Please. Don't think I'm a murderer. I'm not crazy."

"It's not your fault you killed them. It's their fault they tried to kill you—"

"I MUST join the Games. I want to die." Lacey said. "I'm now experienced at killing. I can do this."

"Are you crazy?! You deserve a life. You have dreams. You weave great. Boys like you. You'll have a future. Me? I'm not pretty. I don't know what I'll do when I grow up. You're more blessed than others out there. You can survive a District Eight life. You can try to transfer to another District when you grow up."

"Pauline," Lacey began. "You're one of the best types of friends a person could have. Thank you for cheering me up and for encouraging me to have a life."

"It's my pleasure." I said as the picking of names took place.

"For the girls . . ." Daffodil, our escort, began saying. "Ooh, I wear this kind of cloth! Pauline Velvet!"

It's inevitable.

* * *

><p>()()<p>

I called my home Sector 4 and I hate rich people. Rich people _always_ think highly of themselves and _always _make problems out of petty things. My name is Christian Wright and I am eighteen and undereducated.

I came from a dilapidated old hut near the factories. The cluster of huts was called _The Frog_. I didn't know why the huts were called _The Frog_, but I learned not to mind it when I grew up.

I went to work at a small factory, whose arrogant owner lived in Sector 1. I didn't know exactly what my job was, but I was just doing it for the small amount of money. Per week I think the salary was 5 PN. My mother and I fit the 5 PN for the following week. _What could you buy with 5 Panem Notes? _Someone might ask.

At a Sector 4 store, 5 PN is worth 20 PN to a Sector 1 to 3 market, so my mother and I could buy cans of soup and sausages for a week. You might also ask, _Why would the other Sectors just buy from Sector 4 store?_ I didn't know with rich people. They thought they were the superiors they can't even live with the basic stuff.

Anyway, a day before the Reaping, I walked home after buying one can of soup with 1 PN. At the other sectors, I think a can of soup was worth 3 to 5 PN. My mother was waiting for me outside our hut and she hugged me when I reached her. "So proud of my son." She whispered. As we got in, she said to me, "Even though we live in a slum area, you still manage to give us food."

"Don't worry mother, I can handle _any obstacle _in the world."

"You will have a good life when you grow up." My mother said.

"Of course mother! I'm industrious. I'm handsome. The girls _love _me." I said seriously, pretty proud of myself. My mother just laughed.

"As you say so . . ." she muttered, snickering, as she began heating the can.

"I promise you, after the Reaping, we will transfer to Shank or Selvage Area. Anywhere, except here. They say _the Frog_ is the poorest of the poor."

"But, why does that affect you?" my mother asked.

"No more worries, mother. I will follow the legacy of my father. I will set things '_Wright'_."

"You didn't answer my question." She said as she poured the soup into two bowls. After she grabbed hers, she left the house.

. . .

Today was the Reaping. I saved up almost 24 PN the past weeks. I'm sure I could find a lost Note later to make it 25 PN, for my mother and me to transfer to the Selvage Area, a nicer area. I didn't want to get some Notes from my mother's jar. It was her lifetime earnings. Some of the coins there probably have no monetary value nowadays.

The escort droned on and on and finally began the picking of names.

"Pauline Velvet!"

Ah, the mayor's daughter. I laughed. It would be fun to see the mayor's child die. I would rejoice at our new Selvage House if she dies slowly.

"For the boys, Christian Wright!"

Oh no. I would join the mayor's daughter in the Games. What will happen to my mother? The Notes . . . they're in my pocket! I should've left it at home—no, I could give it to my mother later.

The Selvage House . . . my dreams . . . they're gone because of these Games.

As I walked up to the stage, I reminded myself not to kill the Velvet girl. I remembered the 17th Games, where the District 8 male killed the female counterpart. The civilians of Eight quickly burned the home of the D8 Male, with his family members in it.

Goodbye, mother.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE STORYYYY? :)) Please don't forget to leave a review! Don't worry, I will post the tributes (all) after the D12 male POV at Chapter 6!

See ya!


	5. Chapter 5: District 9 and 10 Reaping

**A/N: Hi guys! It's me and I'm back with Chapter 5! Please review on who's your favorite from the tributes. Who knows, it might add up to the odds of a person living! :D We're nearing the end of the Reapings!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: District 9 and 10 Reaping<strong>

My father was twenty and my mother was nineteen when I was born. My mother and father argued about my name. My mother wanted me to be Diana, a Roman goddess of the hunt, according to Roman Mythology. But my father wanted me to be named Ceres, a Roman goddess of crops. It would be weird because my last name was Ceres, then I was going to be named Ceres. That would be Ceres Ceres, which sounded awkward so they agreed on Diana, with my father adding "Rose."

As usual, young newly-weds didn't reach far. When I was six, they split up. My mother went to the northern District 9, while my mother went to the southern District 9. I was passed between them like a ball. My time with my mother was horrible. She always used a belt to hit me when I had a mistake on an exam. Why did I always have to be perfect? Why did I always need to be on top of others?

Meanwhile, my time with my father was pleasant. I always felt his care for me, his love for me. He was the complete opposite of my mother. My mother was always angry, while my father was just . . . _chill_. Every year, I shifted schools. I wasn't very good at socializing. It was hard being a new girl every school year. Finally, I turned ten. _When a child with split-up parents turns ten, he or she would choose between the mother and the father to be the parent_, according to district law.

It was the moment when my father dressed me up in a pretty pink dress. Before we went in one of the Justice Building rooms, he hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear that he loves me and nothing will compare to his love for me. I felt him beginning to cry, but he began resisting. We entered together and I saw that it was like the court I saw in movies I watched with my father. Someone I didn't know grabbed my hand and placed me at the center aisle, between the two front pews. The left side was dominated by my mother's family members and the right side had only my father. My father was smiling nervously.

"Order in the court! Order in the court!" someone shouted. I was confused. Why was I standing? "According to the District Law provided by the Capitol, when a child with divorced parents turns ten, the child would choose between the mother and the father to be the official parent from that day onwards." The speaker paused. "Diana Rose Ceres, who do you choose as your parent from this day onwards? Would it be your mother or your father?"

It was hard. It was like choosing between your parents on who will live. I felt tears streaming down my face as I recalled all the separate memories with my father, or my mother. I had almost chosen my mother because she's a woman and I could go to her for guidance, but I knew better. I ran to my father, hugging him tight. That moment, I really felt the tears flow down.

My mother's family, including my mother, left without a word and I had never, ever heard something about my mother. Not a word, not a sentence, not a single detail, and not even a contact number. Once, I tried to find her using the phonebook given by the mayor, but it seemed as if she disappeared like a bubble: she left no traces. She probably changed her name. Anyway, I learned how to move on.

I continued going to the school my father enrolled me in before the "court scene." I began having friends, like Krissy, Stephanie, Kevin and Michael. They were all good, and they were kind to me, especially Stephanie. Stephanie was very kind to everyone, even to the people who hate her. She was the opposite of a mean girl. She was also smart. I didn't know someone who hated Stephanie. She was everyone's friend.

. . .

Now I'm thirteen. Krissy was chosen for last year's Hunger Games, and she died after three days. She placed tenth or twelfth, I think. She was killed by District Eleven. I wasn't mad because sometimes Krissy was just a know-it-all, but I wasn't really mad at the D11 female as she was saying sorry while she was killing Krissy. She was even crying and shouting she didn't want to do it. Stephanie and Michael became a couple, always together. They constantly have their lone time, so I was left with Kevin, who slowly drifted away from our group and joined the jocks. I was all alone.

. . .

Reaping Day came and I looked at the mirror after dressing up in a peach-colored dress. I was a little fairer from the other D9 citizens. I had glasses on with a black-and-pink frame. There wasn't much to describe about me. I wasn't one of those pretty girls like Steph. I was just a plain girl that stood out because of her whiter skin.

After I descended the stairs, my father hugged me tight. "I love you, Di. Let's buy chicken after, okay?" I nodded and walked out of the door, my father following.

Our house was practically very near the square entrance. We walked a few steps and there we were at the registration area. My finger got pricked and my dad stayed behind as I entered the thirteen-year old sector. I looked straight at the stage and almost felt my father looking at me with nervous eyes.

A few moments later, our escort appeared and it was a new one. The woman had dyed blonde hair tied up in a braid bun. A necklace studded with jewelries (I think two of them were pearl and diamond) hung around her neck. She wore a strapless fluffy dress that reached up to her knees. She wore very high pink high heels. "Good morning, District Nine. My name is Veridiana, your new escort!" New escorts probably were always cheery. "Today is the day where we choose two tributes to represent their District in the annual Hunger Games! It is a reminder of the rebellion and a punishment to let the people not do it again. It is a celebration. It is simply so _fetch_!"

"FETCH WILL NEVER HAPPEN!" Someone shouted from the crowd. Everyone erupted in laughter. It was a reference of the thousand-old film called _Mean Girls_. The PV, or what the old people called DVD, of the film has been preserved and copied, so it was known in almost all the Districts. It was a glimpse of the past.

Suddenly, someone from the stage walked up to the mike and grabbed it. The person feigned coughing twice and said, "I'm sick." Everyone once again erupted in laughter, but it immediately disappeared as the Peacekeepers fired their guns into the air. "Let us begin our choosing," Veridiana said, careful with her choice of words. "For the ladies we have . . . _a thirteen year old_!" My heart suddenly beat faster. _I hope it wouldn't be me. I hope it wouldn't be me. _I chanted internally as Veridiana announced the chosen name, with a bit of hesitation as if a memory had resurfaced in her mind. "DIANA ROSE CERES!"

As I rose up the stage with sad emotions (e.g. this was a cruel goodbye to my father), I saw that something flickered behind the escort's eyes. Recognition with cruelty.

Now I knew who she really was. She was a woman who had a dark past. She looked like she was very familiar with our district, I guessed she transferred from District 9 to the Capitol and volunteered to be the escort of District 9. She changed her name from Lily to Veridiana.

Under all the makeup and the Capitolite dress-up, she was my mother.

* * *

><p>()()<p>

The moment I closed my eyes, the dream came.

_I am in a crowded place. I don't know what place it is. The people behind me are pushing me to move forward while the people in front of me are pushing me back. I can't do this. I collapse._

_I hear my name as if I am underwater. I rise up from the crowds and freeze in mid-air. A strong wind places me on a stage where a faceless girl stands beside me. "Our tributes," the woman behind me says. _

_Everything blurs for a while and suddenly comes into focus. I am in a deserted wasteland, last year's arena. I see a wolf mutt run at me, its mouth open, baring its fangs. I run away from it, determined to enter the jungle; but the mutt catches me by my legs and I fall down in a heap. I face it and the last thing I see is the wolf sinking its fangs on me._

I woke up, panting. Last year, a friend aka neighbor whose name was Harvey, sixteen years of age, was picked for the Games. He was one of the top ten, but died because he had no food. I didn't like to run out of food.

Even though I was very afraid of me going to the Games, I was more afraid for Michael, a 13 year old and one of my best best best best friends, but I think he didn't consider me as a best best best best friend.

When we were young, Michael and I always talked, hung out and we were always together. We blended together a lot I always smiled. Everything changed when we met this girl named Stephanie. Stephanie was this mean, crazy girl that wanted everyone to be her boyfriend. I hated her. Why did everyone deem her as _kind_? For me, she was the OPPOSITE of kind. After we met Stephanie, Michael drifted away from me. We didn't hang out a lot anymore. We weren't always together. Michael became so close to Stephanie. I was jealous.

_I_ met him first. _I_ should have the right to hang out with him.

Anyway, after Michael and Stephanie went on with their lovey-dovey life, I moved on. I had a crush on almost all the girls, but it seemed like I can't. Maybe I was born to be with Stephanie. Maybe Stephanie _was_ for me.

I was very confused with everything.

. . .

The time had come and I kept sobbing, weeping and crying. It was my first time doing it. It was my first time joining one. It was the first time I was eligible.

"Nothing could go wrong," my mother told me. "You're still twelve."

"Mom, what about that girl last year? Wasn't that a twelve year old? Mom, it turns me on to my nervous side," I said. "I'm very nervous about it. What if I got picked? What will they do to me?"

"Hush now, later let's eat some scrumptious food!" she smiled. I nodded sadly and my mother, joined by my father, together with the baby, went with me to the square. The blood prick hurt so much for me.

The Reaping began and I was practically shaking with nervousness. The escort began calling names. "Diana Rose Ceres!"

I recognized her. She was very famous because of her backstory, although I think she made it all up to be a star.

"For the boys, we have _a twelve year-old!_ Ooh, this is an interesting match-up." The escort said. _Not me, not me, not me, not me._ "Let's have him here on stage . . . CLYDE MILLER!"

Oh no.

Maybe I will find the one for me.

* * *

><p>()()<p>

I knew I was going to be Reaped. The whole District knew.

My name was Macon Artemisia, a sixteen year-old. The name _macon_ came from food from mutton, or adult sheep meat. Macon was cooked similarly to bacon. My macon, however, was pronounced like it came from _Maria_ and _Concepcion_. In our town, Concepcion was this celebration when Mary conceived Jesus. It was an ancient celebration that our town celebrates, but nowadays it wasn't widely known and few celebrate it.

In a sense, my name could either be from the sheep bacon or from Maria Concepcion. Anyway, I knew I was going to be Reaped when I saw my mother crying one morning after I woke up. She held a letter in her hands.

"My husband and my eldest . . . gone!" she said through sobs.

My father had caught a disease two years ago. He was paralyzed. I visited him in the hospital almost twenty times a week. I was always praying that some Higher Being would bless us and brew a possible cure to his sickness. He was the second person who caught the disease, the first died instantly. The doctors managed to keep him hanging on . . . barely. They said death could happen any minute. But even if there _was_ a cure, we mightn't afford it.

I also had a younger brother, thirteen years old. His name was Dalton. He meant a lot to me. My world would be crushed if he was chosen for the Games. I also have another sister named Sierra. Sierra was a kind, cheerful girl.

Back to the story, I approached my mother and asked her what was going on. She only said three words: _"You'll be Reaped." _It said in the letter that a barn near the stables had an underground training center and I had the privilege to use it, along with the predicted D10 male (even though sometimes these letters aren't very sure).

The next day, I visited it. It was like a Capitol Training Center. All kinds of weapons were there. I personally favored the Butcher Knife. It was like a large knife and a small axe. It was lame and at the same time deadly. To handle it you need to be extra-careful and wise. I had a morning schedule while the male had an afternoon one. At the next morning I would often see an embedded sword through a dummy's chest. I feared him, because of all the signs he'd shown. He was probably sixteen to eighteen or a tall fifteen year-old, judging by the height of the embedded weapons. Other people would never figure it out, but I didn't know why it was so obvious for me. He had blond hair; he leaves small tufts of hair at the locker area.

At afternoons, I often try to find my boyfriend, Kurt, but he's nowhere to be found. Suddenly, he appears in front of me at about 7 PM. We almost always eat dinner together.

One night, I decided to tell him the truth. "Kurt," I began. "We need to talk."

"Why?" Panic was evident in his voice. "Don't tell me we're breaking up. I love you,"

"No, it's not about that . . . You know those letters District 10 mayor gives?" As I said those words, Kurt's eyes filled with alarm.

"Do not tell me you got one. No, please. DO NOT TELL ME." His eyes blurred.

"I got one, Kurt. I didn't know why. I'll be a tribute, Kurt. It might be better if we—"

"We aren't going to break up. It's just a prediction. It isn't bound to happen." He tried to convince me. "Look, I can't handle this anymore." Kurt stood up and walked away. I followed him.

"Kurt, please. We can talk this out." I desperately said. He suddenly stopped, facing me and I plowed right into him. He grabbed me swiftly and kissed me on the lips. Even though we have done this almost a hundred times, it still gives me the tingles. He was worried, desperate to get me back. Desperate to run away from this world.

"I love you, Mac." He said after I ended it.

"I love you so much," I whispered back.

"If you go, I go," Kurt replied, desperation flowing out of his mouth. He was one of the sweetest people a person could have.

. . .

The Reaping came and I was feeling nervous. What if I die at the first day? What if the Careers beat me up at first sight? What if all of them were stronger than me?

So there I was at the crowded sixteen-year old sector. The choosing of names finally begun and as predicted, I was called.

"Macon Artemisia!"

I wasn't shocked really, but I was really shocked with the following turn of events, especially, "DALTON ARTEMISIA!"

* * *

><p>()()<p>

I received the letter that states that I would take part in the 29th Hunger Games. It was sent by the mayor. My parents cried and I was very heartbroken for my girlfriend.

My girlfriend was this sweet, cute, wise, very kind and bubbly girl who was almost the perfect girl. She had light brown hair and hazel eyes. She was a simple girl, but she stood out from the other girls for me.

How would she react to this news, to this letter? What would happen between us? I needed to talk to her. My schedule was an afternoon, so I could find her in the morning. She couldn't be the girl that was given by the letter. That's just impossible. I tried to find her that afternoon, but she was nowhere. She was probably doing something at her place . . .

I remember the time when I first met her. It was in summer class four years ago. We were far from each other, but we were seatmates at the same bus going to the square bus stop. The school was far from the town. It was near the barns so that we could visit and know what was happening in there. Anyway, at first, we were too shy to talk to each other, and then somehow, we began talking often. Almost everyday—no, I meant everyday. Literally everyday. I began to like her and I always thought of her. I think about her at night when I couldn't sleep. I think about her every morning when I open my eyes. I think about her every moment, every day of my life. She's on my mind all the time.

I first told my friend, Gary, that I had replaced a girl named Cheska (my childhood crush) for her. When September came, Gary, Kael (my other friend) and she landed on the same class. I was almost afraid that they would like her (but I was wrong).

The next year, we became a couple. She proved to be very sweet and caring. I was glad I met her. Now we're sixteen and she had become more beautiful. She was one of the best people a person could ever have. We had survived lots of problems, but this letter might bring us down.

Anyway, after training I always leave a sword through the chest and cut some of my blond hair to show the predicted girl tribute that she was not alone.

Also, everyday, I tried finding my girl at mornings, but she wasn't sitting on her house's porch or hanging out in the square. Where was she? I began worrying until we frequently met for dinners. She was glowing at night, like a star.

I just love her.

. . .

The night came that I would tell her I got a letter. But she began the conversation with the scary "we need to talk." I have to say I panicked. Our three-year relationship couldn't come to an end. We were born for each other. I could feel it!

She told me about _her_ receiving the letter. What?! WHY?! Why was the world so cruel? Macon could lead a good life . . . even when _I'm_ gone. No. This couldn't happen. I didn't want to see her dying. I was practically crying when I walked home.

Why were the odds against me? I hate these letters.

No. I would do everything to let Macon win. I must bind myself to an oath. An oath that if I fail to do, I kill myself. I would protect Macon at all costs. I would give her everything I have at the Games. If I break this, I will break myself. If she dies, I will die too.

My name is Kurt Caprin and I swear to give Macon the life she deserves.

. . .

The Reaping begun. Our escort called Macon's name. I wasn't very surprised. She wore a serious face, no tears evident. The next name was called. I braced myself to hear my name.

"DALTON ARTEMISIA!"

The Artemisia family name was held only by one family, and that was Macon's. Oh no.

The boy bore resemblance to Macon. She looked very shocked.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I also signaled Macon that I was the one who received the letter.

She gave me her most shocked face.

* * *

><p><strong>Tributes so far:<strong>

**District 1:  
>Alliah Sapphire<br>Joshua Combe**

**District 2:  
>Amelia "Ace" Domitia<br>Aeron Sciron**

**District 3:  
>Ysha Integrato<br>Francis Pixley**

**District 4:  
>Aidien Cressida<br>Cjay Eaton  
><strong>

**District 5:  
>Hanna Tesla<br>Leandro Tesla**

**District 6:  
>Kyle Chrysler<br>Fiske Clifford**

**District 7:  
>Jameica Willow<br>Forrest Oakley**

**District 8:  
>Pauline Velvet<br>Christian Wright**

**District 9:  
>Diana Rose Ceres<br>Clyde Miller**

**District 10:  
>Macon Artemisia<br>Kurt Caprin**

**Next chapter will be our last Reaping chapter so stay tuned! Please review, follow and fave! :D**


	6. Chapter 6: District 11 and 12 Reaping

**A/N: Hooray, it's the last Reaping chapter! Please don't forget to put a review after every chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: District 11 and 12 Reaping<strong>

I still remembered my time in Asia. The Southeast Asian countries experienced tremendous earthquakes and tsunamis almost everyday, so we moved to China. China had occasional minor tsunamis, but never near the heart of the country. The heart of the country was one of the few cities in China not yet dominated by wild animals and ever-growing trees and vines. It was like any other country: very advanced in technology. Life was good there. We wouldn't have left if it weren't for the resignation of the city's mayor. The mayor resigned and left the city hanging. The fences that held out the tigers and the wilder animals were brought down. The tigers rampaged across the city, tearing down everything. My father, mother, my two sisters, my father's friend's family and I escaped the country through a plane. We were supposed to land at Antarctica, the most blessed land, but instead we nearly lost gas and ended up in a wasteland called Mexico. As I looked at the map, China to Antarctica was definitely nearer than from China to Mexico. Why the sudden detour?

We trudged through the wasteland and finally caught sight of a forest. We spent months in the forest, trying to find people who could help. We walked and walked until we found a fence. Through the fence was a city. We were very lucky. We ended up in a country called Panem, governed by some city called Capitol. We were in District 11, an agricultural district. We got registered and we rented a house. We were very relieved to get away from the Chinese tigers, but as I grew older, I realized Panem wasn't that different.

Every year, they send two children to their deaths. A newcomer who was twelve to eighteen, would wait for six months before being eligible. I'm Michelle Reyes, currently fifteen years of age, and I don't want to die.

. . .

People called me wise. People called me a quick thinker. They also called me tough, even though I was small and fairly skinny. Perhaps they talked about me being emotionally tough. Anyway, I only had one problem: I didn't socialize much. I felt like an outcast because I wasn't born in Panem. I was an Asian, a race highly strange to them. For them I was like a blooming flower in a field of withering grass, or probably a patch of withering grass in a blooming flower field. Either way, I stood out . . . in a wrong way. I felt like I didn't fit in. I needed a friend. I needed people who support me. The only child my age I could relate to was Ki Hong, the son of my father's friend . . . even though Ki Hong blended in with the boys fairly well.

Luckily, when I was fourteen, another family from Mexico came. She was a thirteen year old, much taller and chubbier than me. She looked like she was fifteen then. Her name was Lira. Lira was wild at the same time gentle, like a tiger. She was funny. Her family came from Antarctica, the blessed land. A week after her coming, almost everyone battered her with questions. Lira and her family had escaped Antarctica because martial law has been announced. Civilians, innocent or not, were killed on sight after ten at night. News reporters that spoke bad things about the government were imprisoned for life.

People became bored with her like they grew bored with me. Lira and I then became good friends, exchanging stories about our past. Months after her arrival, Lira learned about the Hunger Games. She grew nervous; shivering restlessly like someone would kill her on sight.

What happened?

. . .

The 29th Reaping came. My eyes opened as my alarm clock rang. It symbolized it was eight in the morning. I didn't sleep. I was busy thinking about a strategy if I'd been picked for the Games. I wondered if I would play tough. That could give me some sponsors, but the others will kill me on sight as they think I would be a strong contender. I wondered if I'd act like I'm mute. Nah, that would be horrible. I guess it left only one option: be weak. I'd act like I'm such a crybaby and horrible at weapons, but I truly am not (we had tiger-killing and self-defense lessons at China). I would let the others think I'm weak, so that they would think I'll die on my own. I'll let them all expect I'm worthless, but they'll be shocked with the strength I have.

I wore a plain peach-colored dress and tie my hair into a bun. I put on my new black flats and tried walking them. They were comfortable. I decided against using makeup. I put a blade in my pocket, so I could cut myself when I get Reaped (I cry when my hand heavily bleeds, but my hand quickly heals).

I nodded to my sisters and my parents when I walked into the dining area; my father's friend's family had been very successful in their agricultural business and had earned enough money to transfer to a wealthier district. They were eating District 11 Standard Cereal. A box of it was worth two tesserae. My eldest sister took four for two boxes. It was her last year this time, so she was practically shaking as she fed herself. She was either nervous or excited. I couldn't tell with her. My second-eldest sister was silent, like she'd gone mute. I could tell she'd tell the same about me.

After eating breakfast, we headed for the square. It was weird because the square was a rectangle, not exactly a square. After getting registered, I walked to the fifteen-year old sector. The blade felt like it pierced through my clothes; I could feel its coldness resting on my thigh. The Reaping began and in front of us stood an alive Poshkie doll. Poshkie dolls were these toys parents bought for their ineligible daughters. They were like what the Asians called Barbies. The Poshkie doll was, of course, a Capitolite. The Poshkie doll grinned like she was enjoying the view.

She spoke some words and it felt like she was underwater. All the people were confused. All we understood was "Capitol (she said Cafipoll)", "Dark Days (Duck Dees)" and "The Hunger Games (Tango Gains)." Finally, she said a crystal clear word. "Ladies!" She inserted her hand on the bowl and slowly opened it. My hand was on the handle of the blade.

"Miskelle Raynes." She announced. Who the hell was Miskelle Raynes? I've never heard of her. The mayor stood up and whispered to her. The escort nodded and slowly talked. "Mi-shel Re-yes."

Oh no. It's me. I grabbed at the blade and I felt it cut through the skin. Pain shot through my hand. I began crying. It was flooding with tears at District 11 when I reached the stage. My ears were blurry enough to make out clear visions and glimpses. I heard someone grieve near me and figured it was probably Lira. Poor Lira. Real tears of sadness had flown through my face for Lira, my only friend.

_This is my moment. I'll use my strategy. I'll act weak_.

I'm Michelle Reyes, fifteen years of age and I'm about to die.

* * *

><p>()()<p>

Sarah and I walked slowly out of the school. Sarah was one of my best friends. She had beautiful brown hair, had perfect eyes and a perfect nose. Her lips were curved into a permanent smile.

"That History Test was _so_ hard," she said to me. "I scored a seventy-five over a hundred! What the hell was that?! You were so smart, you received eighty-two."

"Nah," I denied, blushing. "Eighty-two was not a high score . . . and don't talk about that math test. It was definitely harder than the History test."

"Are you kidding? You scored thirty-seven over fifty!" her eyes widened as she said it.

"It's a fairly average score, Sarah—"

"Stop that," she smiled. "Stop acting like you're not smart."

"But I am not . . ." I murmured. "Anyway, I was hoping we could eat dinner later. You know, get some soup . . ." I suddenly gained interest at the floor.

"Aw! Sorry, bestie, but I have a date with my boyfie." Sarah said, trying to feel sad, but she was obviously feigning it.

"It's okay. I forgot about the Math homework. Maybe some other time instead."

"Yeah, maybe some other time. See ya tomorrow, bestie!" Sarah said and skipped away like an eight-year old. I felt crushed. Only today she said she had a boyfriend. Meanwhile, I remained her best friend. It hurt so much. Why was the world cruel?

I continued walking home. My brother welcomed me. I was not in the mood to argue with him. I sauntered past my parents and headed upstairs to my room. I've had enough of everyone's name-calling. I've had enough of being called a _pig_. I've had enough of being called _fat_. I hated everything. I just can't.

Stuck in the bestfriend-zone.

. . .

When I was twelve, I met a girl whose name was Lynn Kris. Lynn and I had similarities. We were both "chubby" and I guess we're both smart. Lynn and I were talkative, so we never ran out of topics. I developed a crush on her, but she still treated me as her "friend for life."

When I was thirteen, I was over Lynn. I met Noreen (sometimes her name's spelled as Nhoreen, but she liked it Noreen), a tall, slender girl. She was cute and bubbly. Noreen considered me as a "sweet friend." I also became friends with Jean, but she was just a minor crush. She called me her "fren."

Fourteen was when I became friends with Frances and Lena. I developed a crush on them both. I knew I was a jerk, but they were just pretty for me. They dubbed me as their "BPF" which meant best pig friend. I didn't take the name roughly as I also called them pigs. I got over them as soon as I met Hazel. Hazel was like, the ultimate beautiful girl. I considered her my first love. Hazel and I were the best of friends. We were inseparable. That year I was supposed to ask her out, but unfortunately she got picked for the Hunger Games. She was killed in the bloodbath. I grieved for her and didn't get over it for almost six months.

That's when Hazel's friend, Sarah, and I grew close. Hazel's death brought about our meet-up in her funeral. Like fate brought us together, I began always seeing Sarah at school and in town. We always coincidentally bumped at each other and we would be indulged in these talks about Hazel and the past. We became the best of the best of friends. As time passed, our 'spark,' if there was even one, slowly died out. She became attached to this guy called Cade. Cade was a lot more handsome than me, a lot more fit. He was practically a District 11 Standard Heartthrob, while I was District 11 Standard Pig (just joking, there's no such thing as standard pig).

Why did I always remain at the cursed Best Friend Zone? Is this some kind of unsolvable math problem, or is this 'Zoning' Science?

. . .

Reaping came. I dressed up in a polo shirt striped with red, white, blue and yellow. I walked to the square, got registered, entered the 16-year old sector then waited for the Reaping to start. I tried finding Sarah through the mass of the 16-year old female sector. I couldn't find the light brown hair she always let loose.

The Reaping began and our escort named Miranda. The woman was a usual Capitolite citizen, except she had thick, red lipstick that overlapped her lips. All her words were very unclear, like she was some crossbreed of a cat and a fish (but not a catfish).

"Miskelle Raynes!" she called out. Of all my 16 District 11 years, I had never heard of Miskelle Raynes. Suddenly, she corrected it. "Mi-shel Re-yes . . ." she said slowly. Ah, Michelle Reyes. She was from Asia. This will be quite a story for the Capitol.

"Pour the boings," she said, her voice booming throughout the square. "Ferret And-Then." And-Then sounded like _Anden_, my surname. Anden was like these mountain terraces for farming. I had hoped it was my brother who got picked. Miranda started saying it slowly. "Fe-red En-den."

_Fred Anden_. Oh no. Hazel will bring me with her.

Tears streamed down my face.

* * *

><p>()()<p>

My name is Chloe Brooke. To you, Chloe would seem like a very unlikely name for District 12: Mining. My name has a mind-flipping (not much) etymology. Chloe came from _Cloe_, which came from _Cole._ _Cole_ sounded like _Coal_, our district's industry; indirectly, my name was very connected to our District's industry.

My older brother, Cole, was an awesome brother. My mother was the sweetest mom any person could ever have. She was caring and loving. My father was a very hardworking man when he was alive. He did his best to get money for the family. _For us_. You could say we were the perfect family. We probably were, if my father didn't die. You see, my father was a coal miner, which was a regular job for District 12 Males. My father spent almost 24 hours in the mines, his energy fueled by his care for us. Suddenly, my father was promoted to geologist, which had a higher salary. I was proud of my father, until one day, the _District 12 Massacre _happened and most geologists, surveyors and metallurgists were killed. My father was included in the casualties. My poor father. All he wanted was to give us what we needed. He died for us. Still _for us_.

My mother remained sweet, but at times my brother and I felt that she was too distant and unattached. We were worried she had caught some kind of brain disease, but local doctors said it was just trauma.

These days, my brother and I took tesserae for our monthly food. We lived near the Merchant sector, which was not as bad as the Seam, the poorest area of Twelve.

. . .

How could anyone focus with Math Homework when the Reaping will be the next day?

I frowned at the paper, which was still blank. Getting the measures of this concave polygon would _not_ help me in life. There were no "architecture" jobs in District 12. Panem History, however, was one of my favorite subjects. Panem History also discussed about the lands before Panem. I was very interested with the United States of America. They lived in peace without the Hunger Games. Meanwhile, I can't even imagine a life without the Hunger Games. I learned that Asia was not just a big mass of land. There were also countries spread across the seas and oceans, like the Philippines and Indonesia. I learned that Antarctica was not the technological country it is these times. I couldn't imagine a deserted Antarctica. Antarctica was like, the new United Kingdom or USA.

I didn't realize that sleep has kissed my forehead until my head touched the table.

_It was a regular night for District 12, but not for the Brooke family. _

_I crept down the stairs and followed the sounds of shouting and arguments. A room down the hallway was ajar and lit. I slowly tiptoed to it and looked inside. My father was shouting at my mother and vice versa. My head was ringing. My mind couldn't register any word that my ears heard. I felt ravaged. My father and mother were very loving to each other; they wouldn't just argue without a reason._

_Then I suddenly heard footsteps. Oh no, they were coming out of the room. I quickly ascended the stairs and entered my bedroom. I feigned sleep when I heard my father walk in. He knelt beside my bed and held my head. "I love you so much, Chloe." I heard him whisper. He planted a kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight, daughter and may He bless you."_ _What was the _He_ he was talking about? Was he talking about God?_

_I heard him go out of the room. My eyes fluttered open. Why was he saying those things like he was saying goodbye?_

_The next day, I woke up early so I could see my father go to work. His words last night troubled me much. Holding his suitcase, he kissed me and Cole on the forehead and nodded at my mother's direction, who was frowning. He each told us an _I love you_. He wore a sad smile. Why? _

_It was a fairly normal day, until at exactly 13:01, a series of gunshots rang throughout the district. Blasts were heard. We were told to stay down by our professor. He went outside and talked to the other teachers. When he walked in, he announced that all students were to evacuate to the seventh-floor gymnasium, where our parents will fetch us. I was breathing hard, nervous that my father was too busy with work and my mother was caught up in some blast. Even though it was a fairly warm day, I was shaking._

_The number of children quickly dwindled until only about ten of us were left. Five mothers simultaneously came in and brought their children with them. I was still facing the entrance doors, where I'd expect my mother, father or brother to come get me. Three more children were fetched; a boy named Rob and I were left. Rob and I exchanged stories; it was a good pastime while waiting for our parents. A few teachers were still inside the gym, probably waiting for the two of us to be fetched. Rob told me about his young father, John, and how people would compare his father to him. They would refer to Rob as "John's son" and not his name, as if it made him more worthy. _

_Soon, my brother came in, his expression blank. He made me say goodbye to Rob and he quickly dragged me away. As soon as we reached the house, he sobbed. I too, began sobbing. _

_"__Don't tell me mother died," I said, shaking my head vigorously. "I will refuse to take that news."_

_"__It's not mom, Clo." Cole whispered. "It's dad. Mom's at the morgue, grieving."_

_I was taken aback. Why my father? Everyone loved him. Not one person despised him. He was humble, kind, intelligent, wise. Why would people kill him?_

I woke up with tears streaming down my face. The memory had once again resurfaced. I had successfully buried it last year, how come it had fought its way back this time?

. . .

I wore a very light blue blouse and tucked it in inside a knee-low light pink skirt. I wore black doll shoes, as usual. I wore a yellow headband and left my hair loose. I put on my glasses. My brother and I walked to the square. My mother said that she would go later.

Cole and I registered and parted ways. He entered the eighteen year-old sector and I entered the sixteen-year old sector. A few moments later, the escort stepped out of the Justice Building. She was a new one. She had wavy light brown hair, a pair of hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle, and smiling lips.

"Welcome to the annual Reaping for the 29th Hunger Games!" she seemed like she was young, like eighteen or seventeen years old. Her name was Elizabeth, or simply Eliza. She talked more until it was time for the picking of the names itself.

"For the girls . . ." she started. "Ooh, what a nice name. Chloe Brooke!"

Oh my brook. It's me. _She chose me._ There's nothing I could do when the crowd parted away from me.

* * *

><p>()()<p>

I'm Ryan Collins and I live in District 12.

Okay, cut! That was such a weird introduction. Anyway, I'm Ryan and I live in District 12. You might dub me as _weird_ because I live in D12, a MINING district while my name sounded like Rye, which was close to D9, the grain district.

Here's my story. My family was from District 9. My whole ancestral line was practically from District 9. I had a sister named Gabrielle. My parents told me that when I was a few months old, I was always sweating due to the District's hot weather, not due to some disease or disorder. The nurse said it was normal, but day and night, I was practically clothed in sweat. My parents planned on transferring to a colder district, preferably near the trees or an elevated district. They planned on District 7, but the fee was too high it would cost a month's worth of food. Their second option was District 12, the poorest district, so the cost was much lighter. I practically grew up in District 12. We fit in comfortably as we were an intimate and quiet family. I was comfortable, troubled only when it was summer. If we were on the brink of poverty in District 9, we were part of the district's well-off families, though we were not so rich and we did not indulge in money. We were a happy family, though in a few arguments isolate us and I sometimes felt I was adopted (I was such the drama child). I also rank one in my classes sometimes, even though I felt pressured by my parents (e.g. "_you need to ace this test or else! You need to be the highest!"_).

Despite my funny and happy personality, I become too full of myself and think that I'm always the best one. This attitude almost always led people to hate or dislike me. I also sucked at socializing, so I treated everyone as my friend but I had no best friends. Arrogance, selfishness and boastfulness tend to invade my mind, so you'd better steer clear of me when I'm in a bad mood. Talking about moods, I shift moods easily. From one moment I could be very joyful then the next I'm oozing with sentiment. I indulge in reading books and writing stories. That's a habit. I liked to learn new things.

So, that kind of summarized my life and my habits . . . although, I haven't told you one more important detail.

The mayor's house, separate from the Justice Building, had a basement and this basement was a training area full of weapons and targets. The mayor's daughter and one of my closest friends, Carissa, gave me a lifetime pass for it. I was very grateful, as I might get Reaped. My slips were increasing. One more year, I'll be eighteen. Carissa was a year older than me, so it was her last year this year. Carissa and I always train at the same time. While we practice, we always talk about things in life. Slowly, I began to fall in love with her. I liked the way she tied her blonde hair into a high ponytail and I loved her innocent electric blue eyes that seemed like they sparkled in the dark. Carissa was nimble, both physically and mentally. She also had high grades. We also studied together, getting almost always perfect scores.

But I had one mistake. I made myself believe that she _liked_ me, which was insane. No one would _ever_ like me. I needed to accept that. Everything was broken when she told me about the famous boy at school and how she admired him. The feeling was like being slowly stabbed, the knife twisted around like it was toying with your life—and your heart. I had learned not to expect much.

My whole life was ruined when the famous boy asked the mayor's daughter to go out with him in front of the whole school. The mayor's daughter said _yes_ and after school, they went away. I never saw Carissa again, nor practiced with her or studied with her. It was like all the moments we shared, all my efforts of showing I care, our whole friendship popped like a bubble. She disappeared from my life.

Well, I _still_ had the lifetime pass for the training. I used it one last time. The day before the Reaping. I practiced archery, as always. It was my favorite; my second favorite weapon was the dagger. I was the only one left when suddenly I heard a voice behind me say "Hey."

I turned and saw the girl I had liked for a couple of years. "Hey. How's your new life without me? Are you so happy now that you got rid of the nerd that always stayed with you?" I hissed back.

"What do you mean? Why are you saying all of this, Ry? What happened to everything?" Carissa asked slowly.

"Perhaps _I_ should ask _you _that!" I shouted, emotions pouring out of my mouth. "Let me ask you huh, what happened to everything? What happened to our friendship? You disappeared like we were just nothing."

"THERE IS NO WE! THERE IS NO US, RY!" she screamed.

"So you're just implying that our friendship was just a big fat joke?! Is that what I look like to you? Am I just something you throw away after you're bored with me?"

"Stop saying that! Stop—"

"I thought you cared. That was my mistake. I thought you cared," I said, my anger dissipating. "Well, thank you for _everything. I truly appreciated your efforts._" I spoke to her sarcastically and walked away.

. . .

The Reaping began early. I realized our old escort, which we called Miss Catfish because of how she spoke, was gone. She was probably promoted or demoted. We had a new escort. As she stepped out of the Justice Building, she seemed like a shining diamond. The escort had natural, wavy, light brown hair. She had a pair of hazel eyes that can scan a scene efficiently. Her eyes seemed to sparkle in different colors: gold, green, blue, and more. They were like gems. Her lips were probably made by a sculptor as they were curved into an everlasting smile. She wore a simple dress that reached up to her knees and heels.

She was gorgeous, and her name was Elizabeth. I couldn't hear her words, I just can't take my eyes off of her.

"Chloe Brooke!"

A tall sixteen year-old walked up the stage, holding back tears.

"For the boys, we will have . . . Ryan Collins!"

The truth hit me like a truck. I suddenly panicked inside. Who wouldn't panic if they were going to join the Hunger Games? I breathed in and out, stabilizing them. As I rose up the stage, I saw Carissa mouth something, while her eyes held back tears. _Remember everything we learned. And I'm sorry. I miss you._

I ignored her. It was too late. Everything was too late. I was going to die.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hooray! Which part did you like most? Okay, here's the complete list of tributes. Comment your top 5. Every review matters!**

**District 1:  
>Alliah Sapphire, 15<br>Joshua Combe, 14**

**District 2:  
>Amelia "Ace" Domitia, 17<br>Aeron Sciron, 17**

**District 3:  
>Ysha Integrato, 15<br>Francis Pixley, 18**

**District 4:  
>Aidien Cressida, 16<br>Cjay Eaton, 14  
><strong>

**District 5:  
>Hanna Tesla, 15<br>Leandro Tesla, 13**

**District 6:  
>Kyle Chrysler, 14<br>Fiske Clifford, 17**

**District 7:  
>Jameica Willow, 17<br>Forrest Oakley, 16**

**District 8:  
>Pauline Velvet, 15<br>Christian Wright, 18**

**District 9:  
>Diana Rose Ceres, 13<br>Clyde Miller, 12**

**District 10:  
>Macon Artemisia, 16<br>Kurt Caprin, 16**

**District 11:  
>Michelle Reyes, 15<br>Fred Anden, 16**

**District 12:  
>Chloe Brooke, 16<br>Ryan Collins, 17**

**We have one 12yo, two 13yo, three 14yo, five 15yo, five 16yo, five 17yo, and two 18yo.**

**FOR MORE INFO ON HOW TO SPONSOR A TRIBUTE/ ADD THEIR POINTS, VISIT MY PROFILE! :)**


	7. Chapter 7: Train Rides and Chariot Rides

**CHAPTER 7: TRAIN AND CHARIOT RIDES**

_D1 Female Alliah Sapphire's POV_

Amethyst's weeping face bore into my mind. It was the last thing I saw of District One. My heart was beating as the boy and I rode the train. His face was wet with tears.

Magnus smiled as the train moved. "My dear tributes! You are now on your way to the oh-so-lovely Capitol! Aren't you guys excited?" I stared back at him, my expression blank. "Ugh, such boring tributes! I thought District One was all about class, luxury!"

"Well, some of us are stuck with boring lives," Joshua deadpanned. "All of us aren't rich, Magnus. Open your eyes to the reality. The Capitol isn't the reality." Magnus gasped and scurried out of the room. Four individuals replaced him. I recognized them. They were the past Victors. They were Diamond, Blaze, Calico and Maxon. Diamond was this stunningly beautiful girl with platinum blonde hair. She had startlingly grey eyes. She seemed to be enjoying the Victor life. Blaze had tousled red hair. He was thin and wiry. He was the oldest of the D1 Victors. Calico was the youngest D1 Victor; she had long black hair, always braided. She had eyes like mine. She was slender. Maxon was the strongest of the four, the buffest. He always wore a serious face. Calico smiled at us as soon as she entered.

"We have interesting tributes this year, don't you think, Diamond?" Calico purred. "This girl has some potential. She's pretty, we won't do anything much with her face. And the boy . . . perhaps Maxon should judge you."

"The Capitol DOES NOT like tuck-ins and curly haired dudes. Especially combinations." Maxon said immediately. "I see you haven't trained at the Institute, yes? Well, that's okay. We need sponsors and you'll be glad you have us!"

When I was shown to my prep team and to my stylist as we had arrived the Capitol, I knew it would be the worst part of the Games.

* * *

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_D2 Male Aeron Sciron's POV_

I was internally screaming when Ace sat beside me in the train. I felt electrified when a part of our skin touches or brushes against each other. I was silent, which was very unlikely. Ace was the only person who could have an effect on me like that.

Daphne kept holding me and laying her head on my shoulder. She was just that annoying. You might say I should be flattered that a Capitol woman likes me. No, she was ugly and she was like, what, fifty years old? You can't tell with Capitolites. We had six victors whose names I don't care memorizing. Minthe Lewis-Domitia was still stunningly beautiful, a trait she passed on to her daughter. I could see Ace was nervous. I could tell she joined so she could escape from the _Victor's Child_ life. I could feel her pain when we touch. Daphne sauntered out of the room as soon as the Victors and we began talking.

"We want to know if you had been training, Aeron." said a burly man probably in his mid-thirties. Maybe he was the guy named Czar who killed all his enemies only with his fists.

"Yeah," I answered back. "The Institute chose me, that's why I'm here. Isn't that obvious?"

"The boy's got some attitude," a woman in her late twenties pointed out. "And his face is a mess, too." I went red. "Don't worry, we could fix that. Daphne likes you even with those."

"Let's talk about the cute girl beside me instead," I said. I saw Minthe frown when Ace blushed.

"We know about the girl. Minthe has been talking about her," the same woman said. "We don't—"

"Actually, I myself have a few questions for her." Minthe interrupted and I saw Ace become aghast. "These are questions I don't even know the answer of."

Ace feigned laughter. "Oh, mother. You know all my secrets."

"Why did you volunteer?" Minthe interrogated. I could see what kind of mother she is. She's a very strict mother, unlike mine. The other five victors silenced.

"I thought Lana couldn't do it, and I thought Lana would have a better life . . ." Ace lied. Her mother probably knew too, because she walked away. I saw Ace beginning to cry. I tried to comfort her, but as I scooted near her, she pushed me, stood up and walked away. I tried to follow her, but the woman in late twenties stopped me.

"Don't. It's their problem. Not ours," she said and walked the opposite direction.

* * *

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_D3 Male: Francis Pixley's POV_

The Avox had blond hair with a peach stiff shirt. He also had matching jeans. His face was painted peach, with a black line running from his eyebrows to the lower eyelids. He had black lips. I stared into the Avox's eyes when he gave me food. They were light brown, exactly my brother Paul's eye color. It had the silver shine. It was a hereditary trait from our grandmother, who passed it on to my mother. Our line was the only one who had that shine. The Capitol nor the luxurious districts never knew how to have the silver shine.

Paul always bowed; I couldn't see the emotion on his face. Did he still remember me? Was I still part of his reachable memory? Or worse, did the Capitol erase his memory? He was practically shaking when he handed me meals and drinks. I needed to find the time to talk to him.

Suddenly, two men walked to Ysha and I when we were eating. They were the Victors. One had glasses with black frames maybe mid-thirties, while the other had a messy mop of black hair. He looked young, probably in his late teens. He seemed very cunning, a sly smile planted on his face. They were named Nano and Flash, respectively. Ysha quickly stood up and curtsied, while I simply nodded. They sat at the two chairs before us and began talking.

"We have an Integrato girl and a famous Pixley. Interesting tributes," Flash stated and Nano frowned. I think Nano didn't like the whole Games concept. He was probably against it, but he couldn't speak up. He was always watched by the Capitol. I raised my brow as Flash said I was a "famous Pixley." "Oh boy, aren't you related to Paul and Benedict Pixley?" He said. I saw the Avox flinch visibly. _Positive. He is Paul. I know it_. I tried to contain my speech and anger. I knew what Paul would want me to answer to this Capitol-influenced man. I shook my head and I saw Paul shoot me a grateful look. "Good heavens!" Flash grinned. "That Paul and Benedict were in the news for _months!_ They were such a disgrace to District Three. It's so good that you're not related to those dimwits."

"Ms. Integrato, I believe you have some knowledge about our district?" Nano asked monotonously.

"No," Ysha said quietly and quickly. "My father doesn't have the time to teach me . . ."

"Well, Ms. _what was your name again?_ Oh yes, Ysha. Ms. Ysha, we need to teach you the basic uses for traditional District 3 weapons, especially the barbed wire." Nano continued, glancing carefully at Flash, who was looking at his reflection on the glass table. "And with you, Mr. Pixley, I see with your build that you've had experience with weapons, yes? You can probably beat a Career or two in hand combat. We just need your impact to the crowd. Tell me, what weapons have you been using?"

I stared at him blankly. There is no way this man would make me speak. I had known him for no more than three hours. I shouldn't dare trust him.

"That boy's gotta problem," Flash said, shaking his head as if he was greatly irritated. "Let's develop the girl more. Look, she's got the looks! The glow! The only thing she needs is impact and familiarity with weapons." Ysha was going to say something when Flash quickly said, "Don't worry, girl! Your teeth will be aligned easily!" Ysha frowned.

"I believe the boy has potential, young Flash," Nano looked at him. "His only problem is his speech."

"Whatever, Nano. I'm just gonna eat." Flash deadpanned, leaving the room. I left too, wanting to strangle that Flash guy.

* * *

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_District 4 Aidien Cressida's POV_

The train was grand and sleek, like an elongated bullet (but grander). Cjay was smiling as we entered, like he was very excited to meet the Victors (or probably the Capitolites). Our district had five victors, one less than District 2's. We were the second district with the highest number of victors. Our first victor was a lean and lanky man named Troy. He was part of the first ever Career pack (in the 4th Hunger Games). He was lucky, as the arena was full of bodies of water. A big flood wiped out almost all the tributes and three survived: D1 male, D12 male and him. The D12 male quickly killed the D1 male. While the D12 male was busy killing the D1 male, Troy killed the D12 male. He was fifteen then. Now, he's always limping, due to his age and drinking problem (it brought some kind of leg disease, I didn't know why or how).

The second was another boy named Zach. He was not a Career. His arena was a city full of ruins. Every step was a danger as it might blow up a mine or make a building fall. The Careers of that year (D1-D2 tributes; the D4 female was killed in the bloodbath) were quickly eliminated, as they did not have the wits. They were chasing the D5 pair (they changed the programming of the mines somehow) and they all ran on this cluster of steps, which led to a mass explosion (it killed the Careers and accidentally killed the pair). Zach was a survivor, killing only the second placer, which was a D8 girl.

Our third Victor was a female named Sedna, one of the Careers (D2 to D4 tributes; the D3 tributes—they were probably one of the strongest contenders—were surprisingly invited by the D2 tributes, only to be killed by D2. D1 tributes formed their own alliance). Her arena was a frozen wasteland and unlike one of the Sedna myths, she didn't freeze off. On the first night, nineteen tributes died, including the D3 tributes and D4 male. On the second night, the D2 and D1 female dueled, which led to their deaths. The D2 male died due to hypothermia, while Sedna and the D1 male battled to death. Sedna managed to decapitate him.

Our fourth Victor was again a male who was named Sy. Sy was a weak male who volunteered because the chosen tribute was Reaped. Sy was booed by all the District 4 citizens. Sy was simply hated by the District 4 crowd (secretly, Sedna, Zach and Troy hated him throughout the duration of his Games). Surprisingly, Sy was a strong contender. He killed eight people in the bloodbath, including both District 1 and 2 tributes. He ripped off the heads of three tributes and went on a killing spree, murdering nine in a row. The games turned out very quick, lasting only, like, two to four days. He suddenly became a crowd favorite and was called The Ripper/Reaper. He was the record-holder for most kills, twenty. The District 1 tribute after him had nineteen kills, he was about to break the record as he was going to kill two tributes in an alliance, except those two tributes easily killed him.

The fifth Victor was long after Sy: a girl named Pumia. Pumia was quick and agile. She was not a Career (the Careers abandoned her). She only had one kill in the bloodbath, a person who she wrestled with for a large backpack. She cracked her neck. She survived by using snares for food. Once, she caught a District 11 tribute. The District 11 tribute, thinking Pumia would kill her, committed suicide. Only two more were left on the last day: they were the D12 pair. The D12 pair, thinking they were the only ones left, killed each other. Pumia was announced Victor.

Anyway, Cjay idolized Sy while I liked Pumia's style of winning. She only killed one person and survived on her own. We met all of them as soon as we settled in. Sy was smiling at me, while Sedna was examining Cjay. Zach, Troy and Pumia were silent, too. I guessed they were thinking of something to tell us.

"The boy's too thin . . ." Sedna pointed out. "But as I see he is highly able with his figure . . . Are you confident?"

"YEEEES!" Cjay grinned. "By the way, my name's Cjay. _C_ came from, obviously, the sea and jay came from the noisy bird!" His grin reached to his ears.

"How about you, what's your name?" Pumia asked. "I bet if you were picked, the announcer would've said it wrong. She said ai-da-yin when she repeated it. Is it ey-dee-yen?"

"Yep. It's _ey-dee-yen _or _ey-dyen_."

"Your name's really unique. Where did it come from?" Zach wondered.

"It's from _aed_ meaning fire. My mother named me that because I was the fire that continues raging through seas." I explained to them.

"Your mother must be _so_ deep." Pumia nodded.

"Can you tell us some strategies now?" Cjay impatiently said.

"Well Troy could tell you some amazing tips with the other Careers, and what to do if there's a flood. Zach could tell you some tips about surviving and a ruined arena, while Sedna here can give you some tips for a wasteland—either hot or cold. Sy would give you a quick lesson on Killing 101, while I would give you some tips on snares and the like. You'll never know if the Careers decide to throw you away." Pumia explained.

"Well, the train ride might last for another hour. Let's begin!" Troy smiled.

* * *

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_District 5 Leandro Tesla's POV_

My sister—or should I say the girl who I thought was my sister, was weeping beside me and apologizing. She kept saying sorry and kept pleading. She said she was very wrong about me. I, in turn, kept nodding and saying it was okay. I did forgive her, except my life was so ruined.

"It's okay. I forgive you—except the part where you ruined my whole life." I said blatantly.

"Please forgive me, Leandro! I was out of my mind that time. Please, brother." The girl beside me wept.

"_You_ called _me_ _brother_?" I scoffed. "I thought I was just some adopted trash that—" I was interrupted when a man and a woman approached us, the man clearing his throat. The man was like an older version of me, except thinner and has darker skin. The woman was tall with flowing red curls, having smaller eyes than the usual (**A/N: She is Russian and Leandro's description might be totally unrealistic**). The male's name was Wyatt Foster and the female's was Veronika Starakova. Wyatt was in his late twenties while Veronika was in her early twenties. I was alive when Veronika won. She was like a viper, slowly making her way through the maze arena and killing tributes slyly, without noise. She was overlooked by the Capitol in her interviews and training.

"Siblings . . . we expect that this year's Victor will come from our district, as family care will inspire the other to push to the limits and win!" Veronika said eagerly, her eyes twinkling.

* * *

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_District 6 Kyle Chrysler's POV_

I was wildly shaking as we arrived the Capitol. Fiske was fidgeting uneasily. He didn't talk to me on the whole train ride. What was running through his mind? Earlier, I said "hey" but he acted like he didn't hear anything. When we met the lone Victor of District 6, Fiske didn't bother asking anything.

What was his problem? I wasn't used to people not talking to me. I should be talked to, not ignored! All people are worthy of attention. All people seek attention. People do things to be recognized, not to be more ignored. When we were going out of the train, I "accidentally" bumped into Fiske. He was harder than a regular human being. He unusually fell to the floor and shot me a glare. I just shrugged. Our escort introduced us to our stylists and prep team. Why did girls get male stylists and boys get female stylists? My stylist was named Romano. He worked with my prep team Sonata, Parana and Levi. Levi showed me a needle much like the one for morphling, except longer. I screamed when he inserted it.

* * *

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_District 7: Jameica Willow's POV_

Forrest was the silent type, and I could tell he thinks the same way about me. I examined him some more. Yep, he _was_ cute. He had a perfect build, muscly. He was probably a student lumberjack. I didn't really scoot near him always as he kinda smelled. Forrest's hands were shaking, even though he wore what looked like a thick blue woven shirt. He had a mop of messy dirty blond hair. His eye color seemed to change everytime I got a glimpse of them.

Mark was lovelier.

. . .

Three Victors escorted us out of the train and deeper into the Capitol. One was a female named Gina, and the boys were Jack and Ash. Gina won by surviving in the woods. She was almost killed by a tornado, but managed to reach the cornucopia, where she battled the District 10 girl to death. Jack's arena was full of coal, an advantage for District 12. However, Jack did not give up. District 12 female managed to escape the Careers' attack on the 12 Pair. District 12 female and District 7 male were left. Jack killed her quickly on sight. Ash's arena was an abandoned amusement park. 16 kids died on the first day, as the horrors of the park were inescapable. The next day, five kids died which left three tributes (Ash, D3 girl and D1 male) finding one another. Finally, D1 male found D3 female and had done something horrific to her. It had lasted for a whole day, and the screams and cries of the female were heard throughout the whole arena. Ash located the screams and killed the D1 male. The D3 female lay on the ground naked and dead.

The train halted and I realized, with sudden nervousness, that we're inside the Capitol.

* * *

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_District 8 Pauline Velvet's POV_

My stylist stood in front of me, looking through his designs. "What might fit you . . . blue or red? With linings of violet or yellow?" he asked himself. I was groaning impatiently. "AH!" my stylist exclaimed then suddenly deflated. "No, no, no. . . Oh! Here! Come!" He gestured for me to come.

I stood, the towel shielding my naked body from the Capitolite almost falling. He showed me a drawing of a dress with different stripes, mainly blue and violet. He quickly ushered me to another room full of dresses. He grabbed the dress with the design and quickly told me to put some underwear and try it.

. . .

The dress fit perfectly, like it was made for me. When I looked at it at first, it seemed to be too tight for me, but when I slipped myself in, it adjusted to my size. I murmured something as I showed the dress to my stylist. "It's made of . . . velvet." I ran my hands through the soft cloth as my stylist nodded in excitement. He began tying my hair into a braid bun. After, he put tons of powder and foundation on me.

"You look beautiful, Pauline!" my stylist said. I blushed faintly. He grabbed my hand and walked me out of the room and through a series of hallways until we end up on the area where we would ride our chariots. I glanced at the others and saw shimmering costumes. Was my district out of place?

* * *

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_District 9 Clyde Miller's POV_

My gold suit did not fit me. It was very tight, made of probably spandex. Such a plain outfit. Aside from the plainness of the body suit, I also wore a gold headband designed with what were supposed to be "grains" but it looked like it came from a soft broom. I had a belt made out of grains wound together, and it was spray painted silver. I waited for Diana.

A few moments later, she appeared out of nowhere. Diana retained her glasses, except the frames were now sparkling gold. Her hair was spray painted brown, and a long grain was used for her high ponytail. She wore a tight gold dress, the front reached up to her knees while the back reached up to her feet. She wore gold high heels.

The front doors began opening and on the TV near the doors, I saw District 1's costume. The female wore a black long-sleeved shirt. The torso was decorated with gems; they were assigned in five columns. The first column was all about emeralds, while the last was decorated with rubies. The second to the fourth columns were decorated with blue gems, I think they were sapphires. Her sleeves were designed with diamonds. She also had a long, black skirt with silver sequins spray painted haphazardly. She had gold eyeliner and thick foundation. Her hair was shining like it's gold. She was waving confidently. She was Alliah Sapphire, thus the sapphires. The boy, Joshua Combe, wore a stiff black sleeveless top and knee-low shorts. The boy's hair was straight, with a few stray hairs curling. His hair was slicked straight. His top was spray painted with gold while his shorts were silver.

District 2 had, as usual, awesome outfits. The girl, Amelia "Ace" Domitia, wore full body armor. It was spray-painted gold. Instead of the usual Greek headwear, she wore a laurel wreath with a few flowers. She also held two hunting knives that were probably fake. Her hair was spray painted silver. Aside from making her look ugly, it made her more elegant and beautiful. The male, Aeron Sciron, wore a laurel wreath, too. His lips looked odd. He also wore a gladiator-like outfit and instead of knives, he held two swords.

Our chariot began moving and I didn't see the third District's outfits.

* * *

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_District 10 Kurt Caprin's POV_

Macon and I were advised by our mentor to hold hands and raise them. We wore matching outfits: cowboy costumes with gold glitters and brown and white patterns. I looked at the screen and saw the District 3 tributes. The girl, Ysha, wore a plain grey top and skirt with color changing tubes surrounding her. Her sleeves were decorated with shining wires and she had a headdress designed with discs. The male, Francis, wore what was like a prince's costume, except it was all grey and black. He had a headdress with erected wires that changed color. Black rubber wires snaked along his long silver sleeves.

District Four was next. The male, Cjay, wore an ocean blue tunic, and his belt was decorated with pearls and gold, shining clams. The female, Aidien, the one with the flaming hair, had a crown designed with tons of pearls and also pieces of corals. Her hair was let loose (not really let loose as she wore a crown) and it looked like a fire raging through the seas. I heard loud applause.

Our chariot began moving and I looked at Macon. She nodded at me and together, we held hands and raised them.

* * *

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_District 11 Fred Anden's POV_

Michelle was crying again as we rode the chariot. She's practically dragging me to death with her. District 11's so humiliated. I looked at her costume and saw that she was wearing a yellow sundress and overalls. Her head yielded a crown that had different grain designs. Her design was so much better than mine. I wore a simple long-sleeved woven shirt with red and black patterns and overalls. I resembled more like a lumberjack.

Our chariot began moving slowly as I glimpsed at the television. District Five male, a small chubby boy, wore a tight, yellow outfit that glow like the sun. The District Five female, her name was Hanna I guess, wore a tight, sparkly, silver body suit.

District Six had matching costumes: they wore sleek and tight gray body suits and had discs that resembled wheels glued to their sleeves. Their hair was sprinkled with silver glitters.

District Seven had interesting costumes. The girl wore a green body suit and a long leather corset that resembled a tree trunk. Few strands of her hair were dyed green. The boy was tall; he wore a costume almost exactly like mine, except he carried an axe with him and he had a leafy headdress.

The horses suddenly sped up and the television became a mere blur.

* * *

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_District 12 Ryan Collins's POV_

I was being fixed up by my stylists, when suddenly I remembered something.

_I was sulking in one room inside the train, when suddenly a person entered the room. It was Elizabeth. My heart beat became faster as she walked towards me. She sat beside me, sighing heavily like a normal teenager._

_"__I don't mean to hurt you, but how old are you?" I asked carefully. _

_She gave me a hesitant look but a few seconds later, she sighed again. "I'm just eighteen." Suddenly, her faint Capitol accent disappeared and a District 12 accent applied on her words. _

_"__Wait, you sound like you're from District 12…" I whispered audibly._

_"__My Capitolness—if there's such word, is all just an act. I _am_ truly from District 12." She said sadly, bowing her head. _

_"__That's why I deemed you familiar . . . you know, you're really pretty. Even without makeup."_

_"__Well, thanks…"_

_"__Why have you become an escort though? If you're from District 12."_

_"_I_ didn't become an escort. I was forced to." Tears began streaming down her face. "I don't wanna watch teens die. I just . . . for example, I don't wanna watch you die, even though we barely know each other."_

_"__What's the catch with this escort thingy and why were you forced?"_

_"__If my first two tributes die, I would be executed. If one of them doesn't, well, I get to live my life in peace. Back in District 12 . . . I was part of a poor family, Ry. I was hunting for food, when suddenly a peacekeeper saw me. I was kept inside the Capitol for two years. They didn't know what to do with me. They appointed me an escort of District 12 and said that I would die if both my tributes die. However, there's a catch. If I bet on one other tribute, then if that tribute dies, I die. But if I won't make any bets, you two will die with me."_

_I nodded sadly. "I'll win for you."_

My memory dissipated as the stylists ushered me to my costume.

* * *

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_District 12: Chloe Brooke's POV_

I got into my black dress. It reached to my knees and it was sleeveless. I also wore a gold belt that gave compliment to my curves—if there were any. They made me wore a high ponytail and they also applied winged eyeliner. They made me wore faint foundation and coal-black lipstick. Coal dust was sprinkled all around me and gold dust was thrown across my dress. Coal dust was also lathered on my arms. When I went to the chariots, I saw Ryan sitting on one corner. He was wearing a jet black coal miner outfit without sleeves. His pants reached up to the middle of his legs. His hair was spiked up and sprinkled with gold dust. He was neatly decorated with coal dust. His whole outfit seemed like it sparkled like it had sequins.

"Hey. Time to get up. We're going to ride the chariot in a moment…" I said.

"Yeah. Later," he sounded bored.

I suddenly saw a flash of flames and quickly turned. I saw a girl with flaming red hair, wearing a blue tunic and a crown made of pearls. "What may I do for you?" I asked, kindly.

"Nothing…I'm just walking around. Knowing the tributes, yeah." She said blandly, looking at her nails. "I'm Aidien, by the way."

"The name's Chloe . . ." I muttered.

"It's nice meeting you…My stylist's calling me now!" she smiled at me. She walked away.

…

The chariot rides began and I looked up at the screen. Districts 1 to 7 were a blur and my eyes focused at the moving chariot of District 8. She wore what looked like a blue or violet velvet dress. Her hair was tied up in a braid bun and she wore thick powder. The male's lips also looked weird. He wore a patchwork tuxedo, just like an ordinary District 8 tribute.

District 9's costumes were a pain to the eye. They exuded brightness like they were the Sun District.

District 10 was a cute district, with its tributes holding hands, no doubt in love with each other. They wore cute gold cowboy outfits.

District 11's chariot began moving and the television went past what my vision can reach.

I was exposed to the Capitol and the loud cheering. I saw my face on the screen and I somehow perked up. I looked pretty. Wow. Our chariot reached near the president and it halted to a stop. Beside the President stood the Head Gamemaker. My heart was beating fast when the crowd's cheering subsided and the president greeted us Happy Hunger Games. Our chariot began moving again and I felt greatly relieved as we entered the tunnel leading to our starting point.

I looked back at the tributes and figured that the Games would be a tragedy.

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><p><strong>AN: HI guys! Did you like it? I hope you did. Please review, fave and follow! Oh and remember that the rules of sponsorship are in my profile. Thanks for the support! :) Comment your top 5!**


	8. Chapter 8: Training, Day One

**A/N: I'm back! Read review follow and fave! So training day one focuses on Districts 1 to 4! Day 2 will focus on 5-8! Please review!**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 8: TRAINING, DAY ONE<strong>

_District 1: Joshua Combe's POV_

It was so hard to get the glitter off my body, so when I woke up, I found Calico and Diamond snickering at me. Maxon, as usual, has no emotion, while Blaze ignored us all. Alliah was shaking nervously, poking through her meal.

"Someone had an exciting night . . ." Calico whispered and Diamond laughed loudly.

"Okay, guys… So today is your first training day! I'm excited for you guys. Here's a tip. Join the Careers ASAP! Don't feel so left out. Blend in with them. I'm sure you guys have been trained back at One." Diamond nodded assuringly.

"That would go so well," I said sarcastically. "I'm _so _sure I would get along with the others fairly." Rolling my eyes, I ate my breakfast quickly and changed into my training suit. It has my district number at my sleeve. As I stepped inside the elevator, Alliah quickly fit herself in.

"I hope the other Careers don't shove us away," Alliah said quietly, as if she was afraid to be heard. I just nod.

The elevator halted with a _ting_ and two tributes with the number four entered. "I see you guys are from One!" the little boy said.

"And you guys are from Four! It's nice to socialize with other Careers." Alliah said, putting on a forced smile.

"It's obvious you have trained, girl," the tall girl with flaming red hair looked at Alliah, then her eyes turned to me. "But you, well . . ." She just shrugged.

"Hush now, Aidien. They can prove themselves worthy later." The boy said to the girl, smirking. The elevator stopped and opened to reveal a long hallway leading to another room.

The four of us walked together and had entered the room simultaneously. The room had hard aluminum walls. It was huge, multiple weapon stations packed at the right side, while survival stations were placed on the left. Simulation centers were placed at the back of the room, facing the Gamemakers above. After each training, the Gamemakers would televise the current ranking for that day.

Left and right, elevators were opening with a _ting_. Tributes, some were shaking, some were confident, entered the room. A cute girl from District Three had caught my eye. She had glowing white skin, like pearls. No, whiter than pearls. She had beautiful hair…don't make me describe her face. She was just . . . perfect.

A woman in front of us spoke. "Good morning, tributes. My name is Beaurae, pronounced _bow-ray_. I am your head trainer for the Hunger Games. I suggest most of you should try out things you've never tried before. However, do not ignore the survival stations. These are greatly needed to survive the Arena. If you ever have questions, approach me. I will be happy to assist you. Each station will have a trainer, and they will help you on that particular station. Good luck. You may now begin."

I hurried after the D3 girl, who went to the electrocution station. She sat down and talked with the trainer, while I just stood awkwardly behind her. Finally, the trainer stood and glanced at me. "A tribute from One? That's very unlikely. I thought you were part of the Careers." I glanced back at the Careers and saw that they were picking a leader. They lacked the District 1 male, me.

I looked back at the trainer and the D3 girl, suddenly locking eyes with her. Those electric blue eyes were dazzling. "They didn't want me…"

Ysha broke the gaze, blushing faintly. I too, was flushed. The trainer nodded and scooted back to Ysha. "So, girl—"

"Um, wait a second. I'm just gonna talk to him shortly." Ysha said, standing up and facing me. "This is the electrocution station. I think you're at the wrong spot."

"Well, um, I followed you here…" I replied, looking at the floor.

"Why?" she giggled.

"That's for you to figure out by yourself,"

"So, let's start at something… what are you good at?"

"Oh…If that's so, then I'll just leave…I'm not good at _anything_."

"I'm sure there's something!" she smiled and pointed at the track circling around the training center. "Let's try that." She said, jogging to the track. Fortunately, they were finding two more participants for the five lane track. I placed myself in the middle lane, with Ysha to my right then the D8 boy, I think, to my left. Beside the D8 boy was the D3 boy, the silent one. Beside Ysha was the D9 boy. The referee just said that if you stepped outside the track, you are disqualified. He added that the first who completed three laps will win, then he blew the whistle. I ran like never before, my legs pumping up. Ysha, as usual, was in front of me, running faster. The D3 boy was leading at the first lap, then the D8 boy coming in second closely. Ysha was next, and the D9 boy and I were neck-to-neck. I used all my energy and I was leading suddenly, the D3 boy closely behind me. It was the last lap. I could see the end point, it was so near…

Suddenly, the D3 boy surpassed me then tripped me. I fell, managing to place my hand through the line. Of course, the D3 boy won. The referee labeled him Francis, so that was probably his name. I came second, thanks to my hand. The D8 boy was third; his name was Christian. Ysha was fourth and the D9 boy, Clyde, came last.

I saw Francis smile and approach the D5 boy. They high-fived, then Christian approached them. _Ooh. A non-Career alliance is forming…_ I began thinking, then suddenly Ysha popped up beside me.

"Congratulations, dude. You're second!" she punched my arm.

"Well, I was supposed to be first—"

"At least you're second! Now, let's go to the edible plants section…"

_District 1 Alliah Sapphire's POV_

Beaurae sauntered out of the room and four individuals approached me. They were the D2 and D4 pair.

"Hi there, we're asking you to join the Careers…" the D2 male said.

"Aeron! This is an order, not a request!" the small D4 male whispered loudly, slapping the D2 male's arm.

"Anyway, would you like to join us?" the D4 girl, also known as the Capitol's Fire Girl, asked.

"Of course!" I replied immediately and the D2 girl jumped in front of me and shook my hand. Her smile made me ask myself if she was my bestfriend all my life. She clearly look forward to us being allies. "I'm Ace!" she said.

"First, we need a leader." The small D4 male said.

"Careers don't need a leader, Cjay. We're supposed to work to—" Fire Girl began, but was rudely interrupted by "Cjay."

"Shut up, Aidien. Your ideas are just trash." Cjay shouted. "We need to show our skills so that we know who can defend the team best. As usual, D1 first!"

They looked expectantly at me and I led them to the bow-and-arrow station. There was a room at the corner where a flock of useless birds, approximately twenty, would serve as your targets. I entered and out of nowhere, birds began appearing. I shot one in the eye, another through the neck, and a few through the abdomen. A few minutes later, two birds remained. I looked expectantly at the others. Ace said nine, Aidien and Aeron said eight.

Cjay shouted, "SIX! Too weak…" Then he followed Aeron. If my math was right, I scored 7.75.

I felt a rush of anger towards Shorty. The boy should know who's in charge.

_District 2 Aeron Sciron's POV_

When I was watching Alliah, my gaze went to this D10 girl. I think her name's Marcon or Macron? She was just extremely beautiful. I can't take my eyes off of her. She was like an angel. She was trying to shoot an arrow, together with her district partner… Oh. My. God. She has a frickin' boyfriend. Frick you, D10 male.

I headed to the simulation centers facing the Gamemakers. I was going to show them how good I wield a sword. I entered and a holographic table appeared before me. I entered three minutes under time, hard under difficulty and sword under weapon. The table disappeared and a real sword replaced it. The room went dark and the windows looked like they were sealed. I knew that the outside could see the inside clearly.

The walls disappeared and the environment becomes a grassy terrain. I heard a hologram laughing behind me so I turned and advanced. I slashed it and it explodes into a shower of hologram cubes. Someone in the distance shot an arrow at me. I jumped to the left, holding the sword away from my body. Blades of grass cut against my face, but I knew that after this is done, it'll be gone. The person with the arrows slowly made its way to my right side. Suddenly, a pack of holograms advanced at my left side. I run to the holograms, knowing that the arrow holo will shoot them. I stabbed and slashed the others that didn't get shot. Suddenly, I felt a tingle in my left side and saw a holographic arrow snaking its way to me. It hit me and everything disappeared. The windows show and I looked at the other Careers.

"Eight," Aidien said, with Alliah's seven quickly following up. Ace gave me also an eight, while Cjay shouted five.

"Sorry, bro. You got 7." Alliah whispered.

I bowed angrily. They'll all be dead to me when the time comes. I'll emerge as Victor and they'll all be forgotten names.

_District 2 Ace Domitia's POV_

I quickly entered the simulation room. I put four minutes under time and medium under difficulty. I choose throwing knives as a weapon and a vest of different designs and curves of knives appeared. I wore them and the room dimmed, the walls changed into a vast rocky terrain. The first one appeared at my left; it threw its trident at me and I ducked, immediately throwing a knife. It exploded. I heard a holo at my back preparing to shoot an arrow. I turned and threw a curved knife. Another holo with throwing knives was advancing at me, throwing wildly. I ducked, shielding under a large rock. I heard the _ting_ of the "knives" as they hit the rock. I looked and saw it was near. I grabbed a long knife and threw it. It hit its forehead and it fell down, disintegrating. A group of four hid behind the rocks and suddenly ambushed me after I stabbed a holo wielding a mace. One held a dagger and threw it. I sidestepped and threw a knife. The impact of the throw made the holo fly and hit a rock. I felt one punch me in the face and I grabbed one knife and stabbed it. It fell down and I threw the knife at another. It hit accurately.

Where was the other one? I saw it behind me. I stepped back and threw a knife. The holo fell down.

The lights appeared and the terrain disappeared. The Careers were in shock at my skills. Alliah and Aidien gave me a nine while Aeron gave me a ten. Cjay whispered seven.

I got an 8.75, the highest score so far. I smiled, pretty proud of myself.

A bell rang, telling it was time for lunch. Beaurae appeared and led us through a door leading to the lunch room.

_D3 Francis Pixley's POV_

All throughout the parade and now, I still haven't spoken. I have mutely made an alliance with Leandro, this chubby D5 boy, and Christian, the D8 boy. Leandro's sister, Hanna, had abandoned him (**A/N: Truth is, Leandro didn't want her as an ally)**. We were a group of underdogs. After a light lunch, we decided to race. Joining us were Hanna, Leandro's sister, and Fred, Hanna's rumored love interest. The referee blew his whistle and off we ran. Christian was very close, while Fred was far. Leandro was faster than Hanna. On the second lap, Leandro and Hanna gained speed, so Leandro was closely behind Christian.

The race finished and predictably, I got first place. Leandro was surprisingly second and Christian with a close third. Hanna was fourth, and last was Fred, panting heavily.

We three decided for the rest of the day to split up and do almost every station. I decided to skip the electrocution station and go to the dagger station. I asked the trainer how to wield a dagger by pointing at it and shrugging. He just replied, "You must be quick and wise."

Since the simulation centers only held holo people, the dagger station had a mutt center wherein fake (although real-looking) mutts try to kill you. I entered the room, clutching the dagger tightly. The lights dimmed and at my left side, two large dog mutts appeared and tackled me. I jumped and went down on one dog, stabbing it. The other escaped, running to the far corner of the room. I chased it and slid down, stabbing the dog's side. The dogs disappeared and big pink birds appeared. Violet liquid dripped through their beaks and I guessed they were poison. I threw my dagger at one bird and it fell down. I quickly crawled to my dagger and grabbed it, dripping the tip with the bird's poison. I threw it and it accurately hit the eye of the bird. It became violet and its whole body turned rigid. It fell down and the next batch came. They were cute dogs. They were slowly circling me, panting. Then they looked up at me cutely, as if asking for food. Something was off…

Temptation and disguise were the dogs' weapons. The truth is, they're vicious and man-eating. I jumped and the dogs' cute faces became distorted. They began pouncing. I threw my dagger at one…but it pierced two. They became ashes. Now, two more. I stepped on one dog and it chomped on my shoe. I grabbed my dagger and stabbed it. I turned at the last and kicked it, then threw a dagger at it.

The lights came back and when the windows opened, I saw all 23 other tributes watching me. So are the Gamemakers.

_D3 Ysha Integrato's POV_

The edible plants' section was a bore. Joshua and I decided to separate after lunch. I went to the snare-setting station. I approached the trainer named Sacra and he taught me how to do a basic snare. After, he made me meet the other tribute in his station named Diana, the D9 girl. He said Diana had improved her snares a lot.

While Diana and I were doing the snare, I attempted a light conversation. "So, Diana, how old are you?"

She shot me a daring look, raising her eyebrow. She answered quietly, "thirteen."

"Wow, you're so young…" I replied and said, "Your mother must be mourning…" When I said that, I knew I said something bad.

She sighed, then put her hands off the ropes. "My mother's with me…" I saw her hands were shaking.

"Wow, you're a Victor's daughter. You must have had—"

"No!" she said, tears streaming down her face. "She's my escort."

"What?!" I replied a little loud, and she flinches. "Your mother looks like twenty!"

"She's thirty-two, but it looks like she's eighteen, right? Well, my story? It's complicated. You see my parents were divorced. I had to choose between my father and mother. I chose my father and I never had contact with my mother. Then at the Reaping, I saw in the glint of her eye recognition and cruelty, because she used to hit me. She will, without doubt, get the chance to kill me. I don't know how, maybe possibly sleep with a tribute or a Gamemaker."

"Oh my gods! She'll probably sleep with a strong and eighteen year old tribute. Probably that guy…" I said, pointing to the D8 male. "Well, not that I think he's strong."

"Eeeew! Ugh. Just yuck."

"I hope you and your mother's relationship become better…"

"I hope…"

Silence ensued and we continued making a snare. After a few minutes, Diana stood and said, "There. Your snare is done. My business is finished here." She left and I stood up, grabbing a dummy from the rack. I put it on the mess of ropes on the ground, making his foot touch the ropes partially. I stepped back immediately and the ropes spun, tightening, then hung the dummy, the ropes tight around its neck. Later, the spring that held the dummy's head to its body snapped and the head rolled down.

I called Diana.

_D4 Cjay Eaton's POV_

The choosing of the leader continued after lunch. I, the greatest no doubt, was next.

I entered the simulation centers and typed in under request: "real-looking holograms." I picked 3 minutes under time, hard under difficulty and spear for the weapon. The lights dimmed and I became aware of the trees around me. I held my spear tightly and two real looking people appeared on my left and right. The right was muscular while the left was a weak one holding a trident. I threw my spear at the muscular one and it hit his heart. He fell down. I looked at the weak male and he threw his spear. I dodged and advanced at him. I pounced and grabbed his hair. I snapped his neck and he fell down. I quickly ran to retrieve my spear. From behind me appeared a girl equipped with a bow-and-arrow. I threw my spear and she dodged, quickly shooting an arrow at me. I jumped and fell down, crashing on the leaves. I crawled to my spear and threw it. It hit the girl's back and she fell down.

A group of three was quickly approaching. I stood before the girl and tried pulling out the spear, but it won't work. They were very near. The boy held a dagger, while the other boy had a spear like mine. The girl was equipped with throwing knives. The boy decided throwing his spear. I dodged and grabbed it as it crashed on the leaves. I threw it at the girl who ducked. It hit the boy with the dagger. The girl threw more knives. It hit the trees with a thud. I pulled one out and shot it at the girl again. The girl quickly sidestepped and the disarmed boy threw a dagger at me clumsily. It fell meters before me. I quickly scrambled for it and approached the duo. I ducked when the girl threw a knife. I stabbed the girl in the stomach and she fell down. I grabbed the boy and repeatedly hit his head on a sturdy tree. He fell down. The trees disappeared and I became aware I was in the training center.

I looked at the other Careers and smiled cruelly. Aeron said ten, Ace and Alliah whispered nine, then Aidien said eight and a half. My score was approximately nine, the highest.

"It's your turn Aidien." I said, shooting a challenging stare at her.

_D4 Aidien Cressida's POV_

Cjay was no doubt annoying, but he proved his skills. He might be a Victor.

I went to the throwing knives station. I grabbed five knives of different designs and talked to the trainer. He closed the station first and I stood in the center of the human-shaped targets on the wall. I smiled, throwing the dagger in the air. I caught it and quickly threw it at the leftmost target. It hit the heart and I immediately threw the next and it landed on the heart of the rightmost target with a thud. I then put one knife in my pocket and transferred another into my right hand. The other remained in my left hand. I threw the left and right simultaneously, hitting the forehead accurately. I grabbed the last and threw it. It hit the neck of the middle target.

I turned and saw everyone still, watching me.

Aeron, Alliah, Ace and Cjay gave me all a nine, so that meant Cjay and I were the leaders.

"What did you say again?" I asked Cjay, raising an eyebrow. He just frowned at me and I felt triumphant.

We decided for the rest of the day to split up and cover much area. I tried out the sickle area. The trainer was a woman named Demeter. She said that a sickle wielder should possess concealment skills and wisdom. She said that a sickle can be thrown like a knife. She put a dummy meters before me and told me to throw it by the handle, the curved blade behind you. I threw it and it spun. It lodged itself on the head.

Another bell rang that signaled training day one was done. The smaller tributes scrambled for the exit, while the older one just sauntered out of the room, some males flexing their muscles like wanna-be hotties.

Cjay and I rose up the elevator together with the D7, D10 and D12 pair. The D7 boy was pretty handsome. The D10 pair looked like a couple and the D12 pair looked like they didn't even know each other. The elevator stopped at level 7, our level (the 1st floor was the underground level, where we prepared for the parade, the second floor was the entrance that had function rooms. The third floor was the training area and cafeteria).

I exited the elevator and stopped by the TV for the day's ranking.

_Third Person POV_

"Welcome to the Daily Updates for the 29th Hunger Games!" Zeus Fairbanks announced. "Here are today's rankings for Training Day One!"

24th: Michelle Reyes, 11  
>23rd: Kyle Chrysler, 6<br>22nd: Jameica Willow, 7  
>21st: Fiske Clifford, 6<br>20th: Hanna Tesla, 5  
>19th: Clyde Miller, 9<br>18th: Pauline Velvet, 8  
>17th: Joshua Combe, 1<br>16th: Leandro Tesla, 5  
>15th: Ysha Integrato, 3<br>14th: Fred Anden, 11  
>13th: Diana Rose Ceres, 9<br>12th: Chloe Brooke, 12  
>11th: Macon Artemisia, 10<br>10th: Ryan Collins, 12  
>9th: Christian Wright, 8<br>8th: Aeron Sciron, 2  
>7th: Kurt Caprin, 10<br>6th: Forrest Oakley, 7  
>5th: Alliah Sapphire, 1<br>4th: Amelia "Ace" Domitia, 2  
>3rd: Aidien Cressida, 4<p>

"And for our first place…WE HAVE A TIE! Ooh, the Gamemakers totally loved what they did today! Francis Pixley from 3 and Cjay Eaton from 4! Now, you have the rankings, sponsors! Tune in tomorrow, the rankings might change!"


End file.
